My Hot Mess People

My mind was focused on packing up, getting ready to leave in fifteen minutes for a client session across town. The boys were eating dinner in a strange combination of the pajamas they wore the night before, dirty faces, tangled hair, and red satin capes. “Hey, you and the boys should come with me!” Deadpan look in response. This is your kryptonite. It’s the worst of everything. Wrangling the boys to get in the car wearing real clothes, taking them anywhere they should act like humans and not a wolf pack, AND doing it all while being photographed. “Oh, we don’t have to. It’s fine. You work so hard all week, you don’t have to do this on your weekend.” You shook your head at me and headed for your closet. “Oh, yes I do. Don’t use your Jedi mind tricks on me.” As ever, we were a storm of chaos. I didn’t have my tripod. Fart jokes aplenty. And we almost ran out of gas on the highway. We party hard, the Evans Clan.

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