It’s inevitable.

It used to come around, like clockwork, once a year. Then, in more recent years, it’s been a twice-yearly thing in my kids’ elementary school.

I’m talking about Picture Day.

For the first few years, I was always so excited and ordered away. The packages were so inviting and exciting (with all sorts of non-picture new choices every year!), I simply could never choose just one. And because my kids are close in age (two grades apart), what I bought/buy for one I always bought/buy for the other.

Now, I don’t know about you, but once I distributed the pictures to various family members (grandparents get the biggest ones, usually the 1 8×10 we were lucky enough to get in the package, then aunts and uncles usually get the 5×7 or 3×5s, and of course, wallets all around), I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the rest.

After the distribution and requisite “they’re so cute!” and “they’ve grown so much!” would come in, I would still have half of the envelopes left — all sorts of sizes of the same cute (but never really doing them justice) school pictures. I’d take one to work, one for home, one for my wallet (and my husband would do the same), and I would still have extras.

The envelopes would just pile up while I continued to write checks, now twice per year, for really unreasonable amounts (always times two), following the pack and never questioning my own ways.

But this year I put my foot down. I got smart. Finally. I stood up to “The Man” (and by “The Man,” I mean the photography company that is running a racket in my school district and beyond — I mean, what a great gig that would be for a photography company!).

I told my kids I would wait to see what the pictures looked like (from the proofs they would inevitably send home in the wait-you-still-have-a-chance-to-buy package) and then decide whether I wanted to order.

Both kids were up in arms. Panicked. Both my laid-back daughter and my play-by-the-rules son were incredulous.

“We have to bring back the forms on picture day!”

“My teacher said we have to bring it.”

“I’m going to have to sign the discipline book if I don’t bring it in!” (This is not made up. I swear.)

I assured them I and they were under no obligation to purchase and that they had every right to come in empty-handed. (Oh, and by the way, I took a look at the form before making my executive decision. The least expensive package, which is made up of some mini-wallets — really small — and something like 2 3×5s, is $24. Doesn’t sound totally outrageous upon an initial look — but multiply that by two and I need to shell out $50 for a couple of micro-mini wallets? I don’t think so.)

So, Mr. Picture Man, this year (or at least until I get the gorgeous proofs of my adorable kids and cave in) I am standing my ground.

Of course, I’m sure we’ll meet again in the Spring!

Filed under: humor for women, kids