“I can’t get it to work!” Minhyuk knocks the little camera against his palm harshly a few times, eyeing the contraption in confusion and he turns it this was and that. A pile of rejected photos sits beside him on the ground, scattered among the mulch and dirt with their ink smeared and corners bent.

“Do you want me to try and help?” You ask teasingly, trying hopelessly to stifle your giggles. In the end, it’s no use; you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight in front of you. He was just too cute with that pout on his face.

You push your son gently on the little baby swing as the chains creak in protest, weathered with years of age. He however doesn’t seem to notice the state of the swing and simple giggles happily, clapping his hands together and enjoying the rhythmic motion of the swing. The sun glints off of the playground equipment, dulled by years of weather and children running around it.

“Aha! I think I got it this time.” Minhyuk stands, holding the camera to his face. You roll your eyes in exasperation but hold the swing still anyway and give the camera a sunny smile. He snaps the picture and falls back into concentration as the camera spits the film out, tongue poking out between his lips slightly.

You lift your baby from the swing and wrap your arms tightly around him, walking over to meet Minhyuk. He pinches the new photo between his fingertips and furrows his eyebrows as he holds it up to the light to get a better look.

“Remind me why we have to take so many pictures again?” You say, pouting slightly. You weren’t really the type of person who enjoyed photo ops, though your son seemed to be having a pretty good time. Minhyuk smiles at you and reveals the picture to you; your hair seems to be sticking out in every direction and your smile is half hearted. You groan in response and frown at the little square of film.

“Do these have to be of me? I look terrible here.” You snatch the photo away in your unoccupied hand and fight the urge to tear it into pieces. “Why can’t I take pictures of you instead?”

Minhyuk frowns and takes the picture back, tucking it into his pocket. “No way. You’re the pretty one, so it’s only fitting that you’re my model. I want pictures for our scrapbook; we have to document every moment of his life. This current section of his life is titled ‘Playground Adventures.’ Good, huh?” You roll your eyes and set your baby down to let him run around on the equipment. He toddles back and forth on unsteady legs before making his way to the plastic animals suspended on springs. You follow after him as Minhyuk continues to snap shots.

You cover your face in defense when he jumps in front of you but can’t help but giggle when he cheers in victory. He twines an arm around your waist and pulls you close against his side as you wait for the film to develop.

“I hope you know I’m putting every single one of these pictures in there. One day, I’m going to show this photo album to all of his friends.” You chuckle and he bites his lip in thought. “Maybe I should get a few bath time shots. pictures would be embarrassing, right? You show that stuff to his friends. Or is it girlfriends?” You knock your fist lightly against his temple.

“Yah, don’t torture our son! He doesn’t deserve your antics, what has he done wrong to you?” Minhyuk grins and takes another shot of your baby as the little boy squeals gleefully.

“Just you wait, one day he’ll do something and we’ll have this to blackmail him for the rest of his life.” You shake your head in exasperation and gather your baby tightly in your arms once again, following Minhyuk as he takes candid photos of the playground and the pair of you.

“You pabo, be nice,” you tickle your baby’s sides and he giggles cutely. “See, this face can’t do anything wrong! It’s too cute.” Minhyuk stuff the rest of the photos into his jacket pocket and twines his fingers with yours.

“I guess your right. I’ll just have to settle with making sure he is on his best behavior all the time, and then I won’t have any reason to use my wonderful blackmail.” He grins teasingly and presses a kiss to the little boy’s temple.

“You’re hopeless,” you say, the insult empty. He simply kisses your cheek in response and gives your hand a squeeze.

“I know.”