The beloved morning. Upstairs the kids are jogging in place excitedly. They are compelled to wait for me to take my photo of the scene.

Such is the life of a photographer’s child.

Having a woman to create delightful decorative embelleshments at home is a nice. I like it.

Christmas goes by in a flash. Mermaid Barbie dolls, candy wrappers, diapers, shoes, hangars from kids clothes not wanted, coats and random wires are the remnants.

Grace and the dog notice each other for the first time.

What might happen? “What is this foul beast?” Grace wonders. Others watch the interchange between them.

One moment snatched out of the time-space continium for us all to inspect. Everyone has already forgotten this moment. Everyone that is but my camera.

Another scene from the day after Christmas. How did Bailey’s boot get there? Is that really the appropriate place for a Bionicle set?

No matter, life goes on.

It was noisy. The gifts were pouring out of everywhere. The babies didn’t seem to mind sleeping in their baby slings.

It was in the 70’s in San Clemente the day after Christmas. I thought about that as I opened the door to a blast of freezing wind.

The downspout chain is covered with ice. There is nothing but blue light coming out of those clouds.

Thick clouds that cover Boise throughout most of the winter.

I have to think of it as hibernation. Hibernation of the sky, the plants, the smells and the signs of life.

It makes you earn the spring. Spring fever is real.

The day after Christmas.

We have all of the expected figures of the Nativity. Somehow a short, mutant, angel popped on the scene. A guitar luggage tag, a Charlie Brown’s Christmas CD cover, and someone’s stocking made it on the scene too.

What happened to this house between Christmas morning and the next morning? Why the distortion of the nativity scene?

I think this is what Christmas looks like to our children.

I have many people that love me and I love. Here are four of them.

It’s magnificient.

A lovely demonstration of a woman’s built in desire to beatify her surroundings.

In this case, my wife’s, and our house.

The age ranges here are 3 months to 94 years old.

The youngest born summer 2009 and the oldest the summer 1915.

“Christmas is for kids” That’s what my Dad always says.

Opening gifts is a pleasure. It does not fade as the years slip by. I guess that you could say that the most noticeable things about the photograph are:

1. The expressions of Mom and Dad.

2. Kevin observing the proceedings.

3. My mothers socks.

Another photograph of opening gifts. Justin in the background is either struggling to open the present or assumes that what he is opening is undesirable.

Grace is opening something terrific. I promise.

Popcorn, holiday colored M&M’s, and a 500 piece puzzle on a card table. Clues of a holiday.

Doing the puzzle, downtime, total leisure, the heater pouring heat into the room. An old movie unspools in gorgeous black and white as we lazily find the puzzles matching pieces.