Matt's Worst Nightmare

I'm Matt. This is my second post. I felt very free after my first one, so I'm doing it again. I call it my worst nightmare, because I thought that was what was happening to me a few weeks back. If you haven't noticed, I love taking pictures, and my favorite subject is Jane. That's because when the shutter goes off, she doesn't suddenly stare at me like she wants a divorce. She doesn't threaten to not invite me back into her home. She doesn't suddenly act like a nervous imbecile. And she doesn't act completely put out. Those reactions are reserved for the different adults I know. I probably fall into one of those categories myself. But Jane is a much better subject. Much more natural. She doesn't mind when I get in her face or follow her around. Until recently.

We were at Ella's parents' in Missouri. I had taken pictures of Jane already, with no objections on her part. She was being cute, playing Grandma's piano. I grabbed my camera. I looked through the viewfinder to frame the shot, and Jane looked up at me from her work:
I barely had the chance to snap off a shot. I didn't even set the exposure (sorry), because Jane yelled "NO," flew off the piano bench at me, and shoved the camera like I was a paparazzo for Us magazine. Wow. Chris Martin eat your heart out. I didn't think much of it, though. You know even Sigfried and Roy's white tiger snapped for no apparent reason. And Jane is a little feral at times, what with her joyful hoots and hollers and her bizarro dancing, à la Elaine on Seinfeld. I wiped her handprint off the lens, and let it pass. But pass it didn't. We were at the park in Windsor, and Jane was hitting the slide like a pro, so I wanted to take some pictures:
I managed to take a few, but Jane was getting increasingly annoyed until finally, standing near the top of the stairs, ready to slide again, she turned to me (I had my camera to my eye) and yelled, "Go away, Dad! PLEASE!" The "please" sounded especially exasperated. It was funny, but sad, too--like the time a friend of mine decided to throw an egg at the first person to exit a church, and it happened to be an old lady in a wheelchair (she was hit square in the chest, and must have been very surprised). I thought I'd lost my favorite subject forever.

But like all nightmares, I woke up from it. About a week later, back at home, perhaps distracted by the excitement of the lights on the newly assembled "Shir-shirsh Tree" Jane agreed to a photo session. In fact, she was excited and insisted I photograph her with her Christmas duck. At first she held him low by her tummy, so I said hold him up to your cheek. She took it literally:
And the floodgates were opened. My little star was reborn. Here she is, happy to mug with a pair of glasses:
She's not afraid if people know she likes smoothies:
And why be embarrassed by something everyone has to do:
The little gal even gets into it when I prep photos for the blog. I had this one opened in Photoshop, and she looked at it with interest:
I said, "What's that?" She said, "Jane's head. Touch it." And then she touched her head like in the photo.

She still has her lapses. The other day at Temple Square, she let me know I was not to photograph her reaching into the fountain. I think I should have sensed the highly personal moment, though, and I blame myself for that one. But for now, my favorite subject remains Jane.