The Moving Target

The other day I saw Edith sitting in front of the sliding glass door, 'brushing' her hair with a pile of plastic peas saying, "Pretty. Pretty." It was so dang cute I felt immediately compelled to take her picture as she attempted to beautify herself. Despite the fact that getting Edith to hold still is impossible these days, idyllic imaginings of snapping multiple photos of Edith as she sat peacefully pea-ing her hair in the sunlight that streamed in the window filled my head. Um, yeah.


I managed to take only one mediocre shot of her doing so.

And then Edith decided to ham it up a little, which is fine. Peas really are for eating, don't you know.

She moved closer and closer to me as I snapped her photo. I knew what she was doing, of course. It's what she always does when I try to take her picture. Look at that wicked gleam in Edith's eyes as she made the lunge for the camera!

She got pretty close, but I foiled her attempt.

Not that she's giving up, mind you. I know it looks like she's spaced out in this next shot, but she's really just resting against my knees for a moment as she formulates her next plan of attack.

Apparently the plan she came up with is to yell at me and express her displeasure. Hmmm... I wonder where she learned that? It doesn't work, you know, Edith. Not that I know from experience, or anything. Just sayin'.

Maybe she'll hold still for a picture if I turn the viewing screen toward her so she can see herself. Oooh! Pretty baby!

After more wrestling and blurry photos, Edith decided to take a more relaxed approach by lying down on my lap. I held the camera above her (hopefully just out of reach) and snapped away blindly. I love how these next photos show evidence of the fact that just about every time Edith hears someone say 'nose' or 'knows' she blows her schnoz with gusto. I've pretty much given up on trying to use a tissue to keep up with it.

That was close, but no cigar. The innocent look isn't going to work on me, young lady. This camera is mine!

So, Edith tries standing up again...

and lying down again...

and kneeling on my lap...

and lying down again. This is tiring stuff! There's no way you're going to succeed, Edith. Just so you know.

Woah! She got ahold of the strap. Let go, let gooooooo!

Nice grab, Edith. I can see you're still eyeing it, judging how to get your mitts on it again. You are. I can see it in your eyes.

Due to the above, and the fact that I don't think you're going to give up, I'm going to call it quits and declare myself the victor. 

Yeah, yeah. Whiner.