A Very Dary Christmas

Back in the shredded wrapping paper and cookie-encrusted wasteland that spans the spiritless days between Christmas and New Year’s, I had the jolly opportunity of winding north, back to New York, to photograph one of my all-time favorite babbies and his rad dad and awesome mom.

The last time I saw Jen, Chris, and Noah was literally the day before they left Brooklyn for a move to California last April, and I also had my camera in their faces.

. . . It had been too long! – My squawking, toddling, giggling sweetheart was now a man – a two-year-old heartthrob – full of speech and wisdom and grown-up laughter at the idea that his toys couldn’t find him, when – of course they could – because he was right in front of them (“I’m wight heeeew!). He went from chubby snuggles to tufted, blonde racer in what felt like a matter of minutes, but was really eight months.

. . .That’s life for you, people. One second you’re having a mostly one-sided conversation with a roly-poly, applesauce-scented ball as you swagger down the street pushing his stroller, the next he is politely requesting a photograph (“Sawwah, take peektour?”) . . . It’s a lovely blur, so try not to miss it.

Thanks so much to the Eptings and Darys for inviting me into your holiday home. You have a lovely, cozy house and family – even if things did get pretty ugly during the search for the Christmas tree pickle – and I can’t wait to meet the newest member of the circle when it arrives next summer.

Be well! And kiss that No-No for me.

Love, SAW(ky)

 

 

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