Helen Belden brushed down Trixie’s tangled curls and fussed with the bow on her pretty blue dress. She turned and straightened the ties of both her sons and her husband. Sighing, she hoped everyone looked good for the family picture that was about to be taken. She watched as Trixie danced impatiently around the waiting room, her black patent leather shoes making tapping sounds on the hard floor.

“When are we going to be done,” moaned Trixie as flopped back on one of the chairs.

“Soon, dear. Now try to stay clean. We want to look our best for this picture. I thought we might put it in our Christmas cards.”

Trixie looked up at her mother, puzzled. “Why would you do that, Moms?” she asked.

“So people can see how much you’ve grown.”

"Well, my feet have growed," said Trixie, "cuz these shoes are hurting my toes."

After several more minutes of waiting, it was finally the Beldens turn to get their picture taken. They were ushered into a small room, where the photographer immediately began positioning them for the photo. He sat Peter and Helen on a small bench, with Mart and Brian standing behind them. Trixie sat on her father’s lap. She watched as the photographer readied his equipment. “Okay everybody, let’s see some big smiles,” he called out from behind his camera.

“Wait!” yelled Trixie.

“What?” asked Moms, alarmed.

“Do you see that horse over there?” Trixie asked, pointing to a stuffed horse that was occasionally used as a prop.

“That’s a very pretty horse,” said Moms. “Now, smile please”

“I want that horse,” said Trixie.

“Honey, that horse belongs to the photographer,” explained Peter

“No, I want that horse. I want to hold it in the picture,” insisted Trixie.

“Trixie, that horse would look silly in this picture,” pointed out Moms.

“But I love that horse, Please! Please!” Trixie begged.

“No, not this time.” said Moms firmly.

Trixie’s eyes filled with tears, and soon they were running down her cheeks. “But I love that horse. I love that horse so much,” she sobbed as she sat on her father’s lap.

“Moms, just make Trixie sit in the car so we can get our picture taken,” said Mart, his eyes rolling.

Peter frowned at his middle child. Both he and Helen tried to soothe Trixie, but she became more upset.  After several minutes of trying to appease Trixie, Helen’s patience ran out.

“Just give her the stupid horse,” she muttered, frustration showing on her face. Trixie beamed as she cuddled the horse in her arms, ready for the picture to be taken.

“Hey, Moms,” said Brian, as the family later left the photographer's studio. “Maybe next time we should get our picture taken someplace serious, like the library.”

“Or the jail,” quipped Mart.

Peter saw the tight, thin lips of his wife. “Just get in the car, boys,” he said as he quickly escorted his family out of the studio.