Fleeting moments

I still think that the person who comes up with a head/glasses/lapel mounted camera for parents will become an instant millionaire. Sure, practically every parent these days has a camera of some sort, maybe even a few of them. But what they don’t have is a camera when they need it. I’m not even talking about having it nearby, I mean having the camera running all of the time. Kind of like a PVR/DVR where it’s always recording the last few minutes and you can hit a button to save off the recent past to disk.

The other night Zane was in his jumper and was going absolutely ballistic. Faith was playing with Tink using a “fishing” cat toy consisting of feathers on the end of a string, connected to a small rod. Tink thought it was interesting. Zane thought it was amazing! He was in his jumper dancing and laughing and smiling and babbling like we’d never seen. When I finally remember the little pocket camera it was only a couple feet away: picked it up, started movie recording, pointed it at Zane.

Total stillness ensued. If stillness can actually ensue, but you know what I mean.

It’s like Zane is tuned into some camcorder frequency and stops everything to “listen” when one is turned on. But even if he was oblivious to it there are some moments so fleeting that you could only capture them if you were filming all of the time. Like the last millimeter between mouth and spoonful of prunes where somehow a chubby fist is able to surreptitiously fly through this space and transfer prune across his face, into the eye brows, and onto Dad without disturbing the spoon’s trajectory.

So, yeah, this invention needs to be a high speed camera as well.