Good news! I finally found the "real" camera. Bad news! Almost every photo I took with it is terrible.
Which means good news for you, the easily-amused people of the Internet, because you get to point and laugh at my pathetic photography skills. And perhaps learn some lessons! Because that's what this blog is all about, right? The lessons, and the learning. Let's hold hands. Sorry mine are so alarmingly sweaty.
LESSON #1: Maybe move the overflowing hamper full of cloth diapers out of frame.
(In my defense, they were clean, having been washed in the last gasp of hot water we had before the water heater went.)
(Oh, and remember how the plumber warned us the new thermostat would probably "only buy us a year" before other parts started failing? Yeah. Try THIRTY-SIX FREAKING HOURS. Our water heater is a prodigy. At sucking.)
LESSON #2: Find a photography prompt other than "hold up your toy for a picture, sweetie."
(In other words, I have approximately four dozen extreme close-ups of various toys with the mostly-obscured faces of my children behind them.)
LESSON #3: Take multiple pictures of the same moment to ensure that no boy-child is adjusting their crotch or scratching their butt in the background.
[EXAMPLES REDACTED FOR DECENCY, DIGNITY, ET AL]
LESSON #4: Try to get the camera focused on your subject BEFORE they break out into the greatest present-opening face of joy you've ever seen in your entire life, because otherwise...
(OH COME ON.)
(Not that it would have mattered that much, because...)
LESSON #5: If you give a toddler chocolate in his stocking, he will shove all of it in his mouth within 15 seconds and will thus look like he's got a mouth full of chewing tobacco in all subsequent photographs.
(Quick non-photography lesson, by the way: Toddlers are the easiest people to shop for on earth. I took Ike with me to Target a few weeks ago to 1) potentially have my credit card number compromised, you know, for kicks, and 2) procure Ezra's gift [some Ninja Turtle truck-thing that shoots plastic manhole covers directly under the couch at high speed]. He came across this stuffed robot toy and lost his damn mind over it. I let him hold it throughout the shopping trip, paid for it right in front of him, then brought it home and shoved it in a closet. And then lo, Christmas morning came and it was the literal second coming of the precious hallowed stuffed robot toy omg omg omg.)
LESSON #6: The chocolate mouth will soon give way to drool and a perma-wet neckline that will be too much trouble to edit out.
LESSON #7: Be sure to get lots of photographs of the new LEGO sets because OH LOOK IT'S MORE LEGO SETS THAT SURE IS SOMETHING CRAZY UNUSUAL, HOO BOY. BETTER MARK THIS OCCASION WITH PERMANENT INK.
(Two sets from Santa, four more from various friends/family, all told. He's already finished building all of them. Good thing the LEGO Movie is opening next month! I mean, I wouldn't want to deny the good people at LEGO their usual chunk of all of our money, or anything.)
LESSON #8: Maybe turn off the flash, or something?
LESSON #9: 5-year-olds can usually be counted on to give good face.
(Not exactly thrilled and/or all-of-my-holiday-dreams-are-coming-true face, but still. That's some nice Blue Steel there, Ezra!)
LESSON #10: Take exactly zero photos of yourself, as they would only serve to memorialize this year as "The Christmas The Water Heater Broke & Nobody Could Take A Shower."