“Can you chase him while I grab some snacks?” I called out to my husband, Jake. Dressed in our best family portrait outfits, he sprinted after our lively eighteen-month-old son, Leo, in the backyard. It was Christmas Card Picture Day, and the terrible twos had arrived a bit too early for our liking. Leo was full of energy, embodying the spirit of a cartoon character, yet he seemed oblivious to our attempts at capturing a serene family moment. We had hired a professional photographer for this occasion, but it quickly became apparent that “sitting” was not in Leo’s vocabulary that day.
“Maybe we should just apologize to the photographer, pay her, and call it a day,” Jake suggested with a sigh.
“No way!” I replied silently, my determination stronger than ever. I was resolved to get at least one decent family photo for our holiday cards, which would be sent to 175 of our nearest and dearest. It was a time of giving, after all—not of giving up. To me, this photo shoot was a challenge I had faced before. A little game of toddler tag with three adults supervising wasn’t going to stop us. Though Jake was visibly embarrassed, perhaps even a bit worn out, he didn’t understand that moments like these, with clean-faced, perfectly dressed children in festive attire—think white turtlenecks under red cable knit vests paired with black corduroys from a local store—were rare treasures.
Laura, our photographer, was new to the parenting game but had the patience and energy to keep up with our rambunctious crew. She suggested we place the boys on our laps for an outdoor shot, prompting me to fetch a cozy blanket. Our older son, Max, was squirmy, but Leo was in no mood to comply with the idea of still photography. One series of shots captured Jake holding Leo with a grip reminiscent of a life-saving maneuver. It was anything but a calm experience.
“We could try some indoor photos,” Laura suggested, likely hoping to keep the boys contained. Unfortunately, that plan also went awry. There were no tears, just plenty of distractions and scattered snacks. Strike two.
“Let’s try our back porch,” I proposed, still determined to secure that perfect family photo. After nearly an hour of chaos, we positioned ourselves against the white wooden railing, boys hoisted—one in each parent’s arms.
“Say Cheese! Say Spiderman! Say Family!” Laura encouraged us. “Family” was the magic word—thankfully, the third time’s a charm.
To our surprise, the porch photo turned out beautifully and garnered unexpected acclaim. I received a flood of compliments as if I had won an award; it felt surreal. A cousin even declared us the winners of her annual holiday card contest. A college friend, who happened to be single, framed our card in his living room. My mom couldn’t hold back tears.
“What’s the secret?” I mused after such overwhelming feedback. Maybe we simply cleaned up well. The comments centered around the photo’s warmth, a snapshot of a family brimming with joy, huddled together against a backdrop of autumn leaves—a slice of the American Dream framed by our own white fence. That Christmas card provided hope, perhaps reaching an elderly relative in a quiet moment or a friend from the past whose address I’d painstakingly located. Whatever the reason, our card resonated.
Perhaps it was our determination shining through, that resilience that young parents often embody. And maybe it was my stylish sweater set. The photo now sits in a metal frame adorned with Kokopelli, which my husband had brought back from a business trip. Though Southwestern isn’t our style, the photo and frame seem to belong together, untouched by time. Even today, I can’t bear to replace that cherished black-and-white image, as it feels like a family heirloom with timeless significance.
“Am I going to have to chase after you again today?” Laura playfully asked Leo during this year’s session, recalling our past antics. With a sheepish grin, he offered a half-hearted apology, a decade late. Christmas Card Picture Day remains one of my favorite traditions, even if the boys don’t quite share my enthusiasm. Last year, I had to resort to bribery to get them out of their comfy sweatpants. Thankfully, they complied this time, albeit with some playful nudges between them as they settled into place.
“Say Family,” Laura prompted, capturing another cherished moment.
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In summary, Christmas Card Picture Day offers an opportunity for families to capture beautiful moments, despite the chaos that often accompanies young children. It’s about perseverance, love, and the precious memories we create along the way.
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