My youngest heathen has taken up photography as a hobby…if you count taking pictures of anything that will hold still long enough with an iPhone as photography.

I made these cookies for the boys’ Valentine’s Day class parties. My youngest was very impressed that I magically managed to make pink cookies. One day, he will discover the reality of food coloring, but in the meantime, I keep it hidden away so my status as the cool mom remains intact.

I knew he was excited about the cookies, because sure enough, out came the iPhone.

He snapped, he posed and he artfully arranged cookies to his exacting specifications:

He acted more neurotic than any magazine editor:

Despite his newfound love of photography, he is decidedly uncooperative when Mom decides to take some pictures of her own:

The kid is a mass of contradictions.

But, I happen to know that he is easily bribed with Oreos.

I sooo get an “F” in photography this weekend. I had a full, wonderful, perfect Fall weekend, and have not a single picture to show for it.

Friday, we took the boys to the State Fair. Leaving my camera behind was out of necessity. My oldest loves the carnival rides, and unfortunately, my husband is not so good with heights, excessive speed or any combination of the two. Therefore, it falls to me to accompany my thrill-seeking eight year-old on every ride he’s tall enough to try. Needless to say, the camera was not conducive to this task.

Saturday was busy, as the boys had a birthday party to attend, and afterward, I went to a Girls’ Night Out with some of the other moms from the school. Needless to say, no mom wants a paper-trail of her girls’ night out, so my camera got banished to the car.

Finally,  I managed to snap the above shot of my mums today, as I was butchering them with some pruning shears. However, I was interrupted by the news that most of my family will be MIA for Thanksgiving, including my mom.

Now is probably not the time to remember that I’ve never made HER turkey gravy. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made gravy o-plenty. But, unlike every other Thanksgiving dish I’ve made by myself, my mom has always been here at crunch-time to make her turkey gravy.

My OCD-half  just had a aneurism.