“How about I take your picture, Jackson Ledbetter? We could do the standard tourist thing, which is where you stand behind Elvis looking up at his ass.”
“Oh, please!”
“Just a suggestion.”
“Take a nice picture and I’ll send it to my mom,” he said.
“Bless your heart!” I exclaimed.
“Isn’t that what people say down here when they’re making fun of you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Go over there and I’ll take some nice pictures for your mommy of you and the cheese-eater.”
Jackson and Noah hammed it up for the camera.
“How about a nice picture of you and me for my mommy?” Jackson asked, offering me a come-hither look.
I called Noah over and switched the camera settings to automatic so he could point and shoot. He gave me an impatient thumbs-up when I told him to pay attention to the composition of the picture. He was getting better but he had a tendency to chop his subjects’ heads off.
He made a shooing motion with his free hand.
Go!