Iris, my three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, had rehearsed her song all week. On the day of the nursery party, I’d charged my phone with the seriousness of a film crew.

Before it began, someone from the team reminded us of the rule: no photos or videos during the little performance.

I knew why I had come. Yet my first thought was about what I wouldn’t be able to take home.

Not filming doesn’t remove the wish for a keepsake

I wanted to show the family the song, watch Iris working out the actions again and keep her little voice. There was nothing mysterious about that wish.

But my shot would also have included other children. Some weren’t to be photographed. I didn’t know their circumstances and didn’t need to in order to respect the rule.

This was about this party and this nursery, not a rule I could announce for every setting. Here, the team had asked for phones to stay put away.

I thought I could film only Iris, very close up. Then I looked at the group: children were moving, getting closer and changing places. My intention to show only her wasn’t enough to guarantee the result.

Another keepsake, not a little exception

I put my phone away. Not because I’d suddenly discovered that filmed memories were less beautiful. I would have been happy to have the video. My disappointment simply didn’t give me an exception.

I could ask after the party whether a photo of my daughter alone, in an authorised place, was possible. If the answer was no, I could leave it there. I could also write down a sentence, keep the programme or ask her later to show me her favourite action.

None of those options exactly replaced the performance. They let me keep something without taking away other children’s images.

During the song, Iris forgot a movement and looked at the child beside her. Then she joined in again a beat late. My hands were free when she looked for my eyes.

Back home, she asked whether I’d seen “when everyone went like this”. She lifted her arms very high and almost immediately knocked over a cushion.

I said yes. Once she’d gone back to playing, I wrote a few lines in my phone’s notes to remember her little performance and the cushion she’d knocked over.

I had no video to send the family, but I still had a little story to tell.

Keep this handy

The situation

The nursery asks you not to film the performance, but you wanted a keepsake?

Try this

Listen to what your child shares and find one helpful cue for the next goodbye or reunion.

  • “What was the easiest part, and what was the hardest?”

Keep in mind: A difficult goodbye or pickup does not tell the whole story of the day.