My daughter went with me to the mall for an "outing". (That's mother-speak for a really boring errand but we'll get you a gumball at the end.)

    We walked in from the second floor parking garage. She focused on something in the middle of the center area.

    "Let's do that, Mama, come on!" she said, towing me forward precipitously.

    "What? What do you see?" I said, letting myself be dragged forward. I didn't see any horsey rides, gum machines, or toy stores - the usual attractions in a mall.

    She didn't answer, but stopped right in front of one of those instant photo booths where you take four goofy pictures in a row. Just like the ones in the movie Amelie.

    "Put some money in," she ordered.

    "You want to take pictures?" I asked. "How do you know about photo booths?" She hadn't been watching Amelie, I knew that much.

    She didn't answer, as usual. Pulling back the curtain, I let her enthusiasm overcome my usual reluctance to spend silly money, and crouched into the booth. We sank down on the hard plastic bench.

    "You put the money there," she said, so inserted three dollars. "Now you have to smile, hurry up!" she said.

 

              

   We smiled. Flash. Then she said "Now I'll kiss you!" Flash. For the next one, I kissed her. Flash.

    "Now we have to make a funny face," I said directively, asserting my oft-neglected role as the person-in-charge. She checked what my funny face looked like and copied it, sticking her tongue way out.

    That strip still hangs on the wall over my computer, months later. Every time she sees the strip of funny faces, she says "Let's go do that again sometime, okay Mama?"

    I say yes. What else could I say?