“Jonas, dear, get over here and please try to focus,” sighed the boy’s mother, Linda, while parting her hair with a comb into a perfectly straight line down the middle, complementing her symmetrical face.

Jonas dragged his feet towards her, with hands buried deep in the pockets of his festive black pants. The annual family photo session, with its obligation to wear formal attire and maintain a neat composure, was always a waste of time to him.

Jonas stopped by his mother’s side, then spun around on the heels of his polished shoes, turning his back to her. She positioned herself behind him, her long maroon gown and black earrings fitting the moss-green wallpaper in the background, as they both faced the camera.

Placing her hands on Jonas’s shoulders, she prodded his sluggish posture upright.

“Why do we always have to smile in photos and look so… stiff?” Jonas whined, while the photographer angled his device to get the perfect shot. “We aren’t always happy like this, and it feels unnatural to force myself to smile when nothing funny is happening.”

“Not every day is a great day, no, but we want to remember the good times and the best versions of ourselves, not the bad. It will be over soon, and then we have a cheerful, lasting memory,” Linda explained, her posture poised and ready for the impending flash of the camera.

“What’s the point?” Jonas pressed on, looking up at his mother, his shoulders slumping down again. “Nobody looks at those pictures anyway.”

Linda met his gaze with warmth and patted his shoulder, “You don’t, yet. But in a few years, when you have grown, you might appreciate these precious moments we captured. We’re reminded of how we’ve changed over the years, and sometimes that’s bittersweet. I am grateful for the convenience of the rapid cameras over the tedious process of sitting for hours while a painter draws our portraits. You, little man, wouldn’t manage to stay seated for more than five minutes,” Linda chuckled. “Gosh, those were dreadfully long sessions, not to speak of expensive!” she mused, recalling summers with her father, sitting on their porch as a neighbor sketched them. If even she didn’t have the patience for that, then Jonas certainly didn’t.

Understanding her son’s distaste for the occasion, a mischievous idea sparked in her mind, and a playful smile curved her lips. She leaned in close to the boy’s ear and whispered, “To heck with traditions. How about we change things for once?”

Something glimmered in Jonas’s eyes, and she knew she had caught his full attention.

“Are we skipping the photo?” he hoped.

“No, but let’s turn it into a game. The one who looks the angriest in the picture wins.”

“Angry? But won’t that ruin the photo, like you always say?” The boy’s voice tinged with disbelief at her sudden suggestion.

She dismissed his concern with a hand gesture, “Forget about old rules. The photo will still be special, no matter the expression. It’ll be a hilarious memory.”

Eyeing an opportunity, Jonas probed, “So, if it’s a game, there’s a prize for the winner?”

“A generous scoop of ice cream,” she replied with a chuckle, to which he instantly lit up with joy. “Alright, put your worst face on. The camera is ready for us.”

They squared their shoulders, stood unnaturally straight and rigid as they faced the lens, and pulled their sourest faces. The photographer, catching on to their playful intent, seemed amused as he leaned into the camera. Linda clenched her jaw and pursed her lips. Jonas balled his hands into fists in his pockets, furrowed his brows, and sneered with the fiercest glare he could manage. He tried so hard to be angry, but all he could think about was how ridiculous they must look.

A hush fell over them as they maintained their grimaces, the seconds stretching longer and longer. Amusement tickled Jonas’s stomach. He realized that it wasn’t just challenging to fake a smile, but trying to appear angry while fighting off laughter was equally, if not more, difficult.

The corners of Jonas’s mouth curved upward - he bit his lip in an attempt to stop it.

Linda’s breath began to quiver above his shoulder, trying to suppress giggles. The boy himself soon began to shake with contained laughter.

At last, the seriousness broke - Jonas burst into laughter and Linda snorted. The cameraman wasn’t immune either, his own chuckles causing the camera to shake.

Once the hilarity subsided, they all wiped away their tears. Jonas reflected that perhaps the annual photoshoot wasn’t as tedious as he’d thought - especially if they could be this entertaining.

He bounced toward the photographer, enthusiasm evident. “Can I see it?”

“Hold on,” the man replied. “The image needs a moment to develop.”

That “moment” was an eternity for Jonas, who impatiently wandered in circles around the room.

But finally, two photos were handed over. Linda sat down in the green wallpapered room to examine them, and he excitedly threw himself down on the sofa next to her. The first image showcased their impressively glum expressions. Normally, when they had their picture taken, they would radiate serenity and contentment. But in this one, they appeared ready to punch the cameraman. The second image, taken candidly, captured their spontaneous eruption of joy.

“Maybe we shouldn’t show these to your grandparents when they arrive next week,” Linda started.

“What - we must! We begin with this one!” Jonas giggled, taking the photo with their outraged faces.

Linda chuckled, almost worried, “They might question my parenting skills when they see us like that. Not just because of our faces, but my iron claw of a hand that clutches your shoulder - and my haughty posture.”

“No,” he answered. “First, they’ll be confused, but interested - they’ll want to hear the story behind it. That’s when we show the second picture.”

His mother affectionately tousled his combed hair into a mess, “You’re right. I like your plan! This was a delightful session.”

Turning to the photographer, who was busy packing his equipment, she added, “Let me pay you for your wonderful work. I will treasure these photos.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” the photographer replied, bowing slightly, his cheerful demeanour echoing the room’s spirited atmosphere. “In fact, I’ll give you a discount, and hope you hire me again for next year’s shoot.”