Family Photos

Showing these pics to a co-worker the other day, I attempted to profess to her, my passion for graffiti.
I said something like,
"because of where and when, I grew up, ridin trains from Brooklyn to Manhattan in the early 80's, graffiti runs deep in my bones. Like if you cut my bones open, paint would drip out from the layer of graffiti between the bones and the marrow."
Bubble letters impressed upon my eye sockets when I should have been diggin on
my little pony.
And so, because of that, when I snap family photos of my boy, this is how we do.

I have a patient boy, he stands by me while I squeal,
"This is so Vintage" and scold him for not having a tough enough b-boy stance for the photo.
But seriously, note the "Pepperidge Farm" logo on the side of the truck if you can.

 If the dude whose truck this was walked up while I was snappin these pics, I would have totally given him my number.