There’s my real dad, just off set.
Photographer: “That’s it Brandon, tug on his jacket, like you would your real dad.”
Brandon: “My dad has an iPhone.”
Aren’t my “parents” just swell?
“Daddy” changes up his facial hair often (or it’s two models)
Kid: (I wish my Dad had this kind of cash)
This starfish looks more like my real dad.
You want me to get Under the covers with him?
Stunt Tossing Babies get steady work.
I spy my real Pop.
FEEL the love.
I’m not going anywhere with you, Pink Shirt.
Fake Dad: “Just pretend like we’re looking at a TV, Bobby.”
Billy: “My name’s Billy.”
“Son” can barely keep a straight face.
(Maybe, I’ll at least get to keep the T-Rex)
And, that’s the limit of “Dad’s” construction knowledge.
My Dad doesn’t wear tacky grey wifebeaters.
At least I get some breakfast on this shoot.
He’s got dreads. Close enough.
Like, I can really hike the ball that far.
YEAH, HE’S MY FATHER.
This clock has more of my DNA.
All images via the best damn stock photo website in the world: Getty Images.
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