WAR. Not really, but I've discovered something about our family that worries me. We all share the same horrendous competitive streak, no one wants to loose, no one wants to come last. Bowling always starts out as a bit of a laugh, a time for family bonding and teamwork, helping each other out with tips and advice on how 'you should stand just a little more to the right' (yes, I am that king pin back seat bowler). Not here, we all fisted the air when the other missed and went down on one knee a stared to the gods in disbelief as the ball skimmed the spare (poppy was especially prone to this little ritual.) And we all have a victory dance. Jas does a little hop, I do a dad's version of the moonwalk which is basically me, walking backwards. Estelle does a rapid fist pump, both hands, Sugar Ray style. But Poppy, clear winner. A single hand on hip, kick out 'thats what I'm sayin, sister' pose (see final pic). The order is in for my velour monogram bowling suit. Bring. It. On, MW.
For those that care - nikon D800, 35mm 1.4G, VSCO HP5 3200.