Right of Passage

Grandmothers and mothers alike everywhere have been doing it since the technology has allowed. You and I both have been bored beyond reason looking, mindlessly, as these women do this with glee. And all the while, I swore to never fall into this category. I like to call it the photo-op. At the flash a "How's your baby?" or "What's new?" these women are whipping out their wallet inserts, phones, or any other device carrying pictures of their children. "Yes," I've found myself agreeing for the sake of speeding up the moment, "They ARE the cutest in the world."

Just yesterday, I've realized that this moment of picture sharing is a right of passage. After not seeing classmates since my son was born, they asked the precursor questions. "How is he? How big was he when he was born?" And without thought or hesitation, the words simply slipped through my lips, "I HAVE PICTURES!!" And there I was showing off my little boy, proclaiming his beauty to anyone willing (or close enough to be trapped).