Can you take a shot at what was under the tree this year with my name on it?
Here, I'll give you a few hints
A certain hubby and wonderful in-laws apparently have mind reading abilities because they somehow managed to hear my silent woes concerning picture quality and shutter speed. That should, perhaps, read: They have listened to me utter more death threats than they could count at my old point and shoot during the past year after missing brilliant shots of the boys while I was waiting for the camera to poke along after I'd take picture and decide it could do it again, say, two minutes later. And by then the two year old always had abandoned all cuteness and moved onto doing something like sticking his head in the dog bowl ala bobbing for apples/fishing in the toilet with his golf clubs/sniffing the dog's rear because, hey, the dog does it so it must be so completely appropriate and awesome. You know, all those moments I'd rather not capture let alone remember.
But now -- now I can actually capture those moments that happen in the few random split seconds in between all of the sticking of heads in the dog bowl/dog crotch/toilet so that in five years I can look through those beautiful moments I captured and lull myself into believing that having two little boys is all hugs, kisses, smiles, coos and gurgles.
On second thought, perhaps I better capture it all so we don't end up with a baseball team instead of just enough to play tennis doubles with perhaps one fill in.