“Chase after him, and I’ll grab some snacks!” I called out to my husband, Alex. Dressed in our holiday finest, he sprinted after our eighteen-month-old son, Ethan, in the backyard. It was Christmas Card Photo Day, and the “terrible twos” had made an early appearance. Ethan was like a miniature superhero, dashing around without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing. We had hired a professional photographer for this occasion, but as it turned out, there would be no sitting still—only action, akin to a day in the life of a field correspondent.
“Maybe we should reconsider trying to take a formal picture with a one and three-year-old,” Alex sighed. “Let’s just apologize to the photographer, pay her, and call it a day.”
I shook my head firmly. I was determined to capture at least one decent family photo for our holiday cards, intended for 175 of our closest friends and relatives, complete with a heartfelt letter from yours truly. This was the season of giving, not giving up. To me, this photo shoot was a walk in the park—okay, more like a frantic sprint—but I had faced much tougher days on my own. A spontaneous game of toddler tag involving three adults was not going to derail our mission. While Alex was understandably embarrassed (and perhaps a bit worn out), he didn’t realize that this was a rare opportunity to have our children looking sharp in their holiday attire—white turtlenecks under red cable-knit vests paired with black corduroy pants. The vests even had charming vintage buttons that gave them a scholarly vibe. I had also dressed up in a nice sweater set instead of my usual mom hoodie. Blurry or not, this photo was going to happen.
Laura, our photographer, had yet to navigate the challenges of photographing toddlers, but she possessed the patience and energy necessary for our lively session. She suggested we seat the boys on our laps for an outdoor photo, so I quickly grabbed a blanket. Our older son, Jake, squirmed, but the baby was having none of it. In fact, the series of shots captured Alex desperately holding onto Ethan as if performing a Heimlich maneuver. Despite the festive plaid blanket, it was far from relaxing.
“We could try some indoor shots,” Laura suggested, likely hoping to keep the boys contained. Unfortunately, that venue proved just as challenging. There were no tears, but plenty of distractions and snack time messes—strike two.
“How about we use our back porch?” I proposed, still aiming for that perfect family shot. So, to the porch we went. With one child perched on each of our laps, we posed against the white wooden railing. Nearly an hour had flown by.
“Say Cheese! Say Spiderman! Say Family!” Laura encouraged. “Family” was the magic word—the third time’s a charm.
Surprisingly, our porch shot not only delighted us but also resonated with others. I was inundated with compliments, as though I had just won an Oscar. A cousin declared that we had won first prize in her annual card contest. Even a college friend, a single guy no less, framed our photo in his living room. My mother teared up when she received her card.
What was it about this photo that garnered such acclaim? Perhaps it was our polished appearance, or maybe the warmth of the moment captured—a family full of hope, huddled closely together, framed by vibrant fall foliage. It was reminiscent of a serene day in the countryside, immortalized in classic black-and-white film, symbolizing our version of the American Dream. That year’s Christmas card seemed to spread joy, possibly reaching an elderly relative during a lonely moment or a long-lost friend whose address I had hunted down before social media made it easy. Regardless of the recipient, our card had an impact, and little did they know how much effort went into that seemingly simple image.
Perhaps it was our resilience as young parents that shined through, or maybe it was my choice of sweater set. The true reason remains a mystery. I continually update family photos around our home, yet I cannot bring myself to replace that cherished black-and-white image. It resides in a quirky metal frame featuring the Kokopelli, the flute-playing deity that my husband brought home from a business trip. Though Southwestern decor isn’t our style, I welcomed it, as it served a purpose. Since then, the photo and frame seem to be in perfect harmony, and I refuse to disturb that balance. Even today, I can’t bear to tuck away our iconic picture into a chronological album for fear of losing its magic. It has become like a family heirloom, gaining value with time and holding a special place in our hearts.
“Am I going to have to chase after you again today?” Laura asked Ethan at our latest photo session, gently teasing him about his antics from that unforgettable day. With a sheepish grin, he shrugged and offered a half-hearted apology, albeit twelve years too late. Christmas Card Picture Day remains one of my fondest traditions, although my co-stars don’t always share my enthusiasm. The bribes to get my boys to wear anything other than sweatpants in 2014 were plentiful. Thankfully, they actually sat still this time, only exchanging brotherly nudges as they settled into position. As in years past, Laura prompted us with words to encourage authentic smiles.
“Say Family,” she instructed as she captured the moment.
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Summary:
Christmas Card Picture Day can be a chaotic yet rewarding experience for families, especially those with young children. Navigating the challenges of toddler behavior while capturing the perfect family photo can lead to unexpected moments of joy and connection. The author reflects on the significance of one particular photo that resonated with friends and family, highlighting the importance of perseverance and cherished memories.