I stood next to my daughters as they rode in circles on a carousel. It was the ultimate forced move into helicopter parenting- I’m required to stand there in case my two year old gets thrown from a plaster panda bear, even though she’s four feet off the ground, affixed with a massive leather strap, and all on a contraption moving at the brisk pace of three miles per hour.
As we turned in circles and I searched the horizon for balance, I thought about taking a picture of them. We’d been on carousels before and the natural inclination these days is to snap a few shots to archive as digital proof- See! Your childhood was fun! We gave you magic for only three dollars a ticket! Show that to your therapist when she starts to blame us!
But then I remembered, I already have pictures of my daughters on a carousel, I’m sure of it. One of the girls at least. So do I really need another picture of a kid on a carousel? I mean, it’s not like they’re climbing Mt. Everest here. It’s a goddamn merry-go-round. Maybe if they were actually doing something impressive, like a magic show or a spot-on Christopher Walken impression, then I’d get out the camera. But they’re just sitting there, mildly enjoying themselves.
What would I do with a picture of my kids on a carousel? I could send it to my wife, but she knows what they look like on a carousel. I’m sure she’s taken a few of these pictures herself. She’d get the text message, she might smile, then she’d scroll on by, not even saving it to her phone.
What about sharing it? I haven’t posted to instagram in months, so I’m not going to break that fast with this. Even if I could catch a truly authentic moment of happiness- hopefully with a little lens flare or golden hour glow, find just the right filter, a witty caption and ironic hashtag, etc- what would be my time investment here? One simple picture would turn into a series of jobs that may take my entire afternoon: photographer, photo editor, art director, copy editor, social media strategist. How long is this carousel ride anyway? Could I even look at a phone for more than a minute while spinning in circles? Just the thought of it makes me dizzy and overwhelmed.
So I didn’t take a picture. I stood a few feet away, at the request of my 5-yr-old, who wanted the world to know how independent she was. I watched as they went up and down, as we all traveled in circles between a pretzel cart and an H&M. And I wondered if I’d finally reached peak photography, peak social media, peak sharing. If we’d all start to feel dizzy from spinning in circles, bobbing up and down, staring at our phones.