Preston likes a lot of things: The Today Show, a pink stuffed giraffe originally intended for baby sister, Cheetos, bubbles, being splashed with cold water, scaring people, Jimmy Fallon, ice cream, making funny faces, Monster's University and Monster's Inc., going outside, playing drums, and his paci.
But there is one thing Preston loves. In fact, you might say he's obsessed. This boy cannot get enough golf. He loves to play with his little plastic set of clubs, whacking white, plastic golf balls all over the yard calling, "Nice shot!" He wakes up from his Sunday afternoon naps asking to watch golf because he knows it's on. He calls the reflexes hammer from his doctor kit his club and hits his pacis across the living room floor. The other day while I was brushing my teeth, he started jumping up and down with his hands over his head chanting, "Play golf! Play golf!" for no real reason at all.
It's obvious why it seemed so fitting that his two year photos incorporate his deep love for golf. After rescheduling with Cassie numerous times (If you're ever in need of rain, let me know and I'll schedule a shoot with Cassie. It works like a charm), we finally were able to meet up at the local country club and get Preston's pictures on their practice putting green. The boy was in heaven. I had to hide the clubs for the first half just so he would sit and get some non-golf pictures first.
I absolutely love the finished result and how they really freeze Preston just as he is now, which is something I cherish even more as he seems to be growing so quickly now. I couldn't ask for a boy much better than this one. And all the sudden, that's what he is — a boy, a walking, talking, opinion-having, giggling, cheerful, albeit stubborn boy. I find myself searching for traces of the baby we brought home. I see glimpses in his chubby cheeks or the way he sleeps with his lips puckered and apart like a little fish. But there are more signs of the big boy he's becoming. Bruises on his legs, dirt under his nails, and little fists clinched tightly around any ball he can find and throw. And while it's sad to see the baby in him fade away, I sure do love this boy of mine.
We have to spell out golf whenever we talk about it in front of him, otherwise he won't cooperate with anything else because he just wants to play golf!
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