The New York Times:
Like most parents, I imagine, I keep a running list of things I’ve done well and things I’ve flubbed. Help our children get lots of sleep? Check. Play fun, stimulating games at dinner? Score. Have peaceful, stress-free mornings when everyone goes into the day uplifted and on time? Hardly. Produce handsome scrapbooks with carefully captioned memories? Not a one. (We do have a few boxes labeled “keepsakes.”)
In all this second-guessing, there’s one area where I give myself unqualified high marks: photography. Having grown up surrounded by cameras, I take lots of pictures. But there’s another area where I’m a complete failure: video. Especially as video has assumed a larger role in the culture with YouTube, Instagram and Vine, this shortcoming has come to bother me more.
Then last winter, we visited friends in Vermont. Our hosts took my daughters snow-tubing, and their teenage son captured the action using a selfie stick, video cam and drone. Afterward, the children disappeared for an hour and produced a brilliant 90-second video of the day, complete with a rock version of “Jingle Bells.” My tween daughters were rapt. I was bereft.
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