It was Avonlea's idea.
There, you know it will be a good post when I start out blaming my daughter.
Avonlea had inherited our old camera and she thought getting a kids camera for Rose, for Christmas, would be fun.
I admitted to the fun potential and bought Rose a snazzy pink camera. I failed to read the fine print, or any of the print for that matter. Print, that boasted of the camera's ability to take videos, edit pictures, and play video games.
Last week, Dave saw that Rose's card was full and decided to delete some pictures and video. The laughter that accompanied this procedure was curious.
There were many pictures of my friend and I having tea. The kids had hidden and taken incredibly embarrassing pictures of our animated discussion. There was also some video. (No comment on that.)
Then there was video of me in bed reading. This wasn't so bad until the boys jumped in next to me and you see my arm begin randomly smacking them. I was still reading and have no recollection of doing this. But there it is, on video. Apparently I beat my children if they disturb me while I'm reading. Who knew?
Then there were the pictures of Dave getting dressed. (All I can say there is, better him than me.)
Then we got to the photo shop area of the camera where the nasty pictures of us were distorted, made into puzzles, had crowns added to them, or possibly all three.
Rosy showed me one of the puzzles she had made out of a picture. I was having trouble figuring out what it was so I asked, "What is that a picture of?" She twinkled an answer, "It's your bottom."
This was all on Rosy's camera. Apparently, Avonlea as well, has been documenting our family life. She's videoed Rowan disobeying and Ma Glo calmly washing the dishes while Rowan disobeyed. She also took video going down the path to the creek for her friends to see, unfortunately she tripped on the way down.
Yesterday, I hit my camera limit when Rosy cried because Rowan was using photo shop on a picture she didn't want photo shopped (or something equally disturbing). I took the camera and hid it in the back of my closet.
Where the only family documentation it can produce is of the state of disorder of my shoes.
Better them, than me.