We’ve had Sept. 2 blocked off for several weeks now on our calendar as “LOOK SPIFFY, CHURCH PICTURE 6:20PM.” And for those of you who’ve ever had a church directory photo taken, you know those things are like roaches in the nuclear holocaust. They stick around way after they should be declared dead.

The last time we had our picture taken for the church directory, Bug was a tiny lima bean inside me and I had a full mouth of braces (i.e. I was TOTALLY HOT). I was really pumped for a new directory picture this time so that I could show off my nice smile and have Bug, who is now definitely larger and cuter than a lima bean, in the photo. But apparently in order to erase the memory of Metalmouth Me, the church directory gods decided I must sacrifice another physical trait (my girlish figure) in its place. Therefore, the church scheduled all the photo sitting times in my ELEVENTY-THIRD month of pregnancy. Underneath the photo it will list the members of our family: “Lorso, Bug, Rachel, Chin #2, Chin #3.” And I will be frozen in time like that for the next five years at least.

But I am not one to go down without a fight, so I craftily scheduled our sitting time for the earliest possible day in September, thinking, “Ha HA! You’re only getting two chins from me camera man!”

However. Those picture company people have greater cosmic powers than I realized.

This afternoon I woefully rescheduled our picture. And now it is not one, but two weeks later than I originally planned. Because on Sunday, Bug was engaged in the perilous and risky behavior of WALKING IN OUR DRIVEWAY, and bit the cement. Hard.

And I swear, when I ran out to see what the crying was about, I just caught a glimpse of “OLAN MILLS” on the getaway van as it sped away from the curb.

Fine, Directory. YOU WIN.

Bug, putting on a brave face despite his brutal brush with the Photo Mafia.