Christmas Maximus; the Circus of Nero; all of it, Romanesque. Morning mayhem, with toys as victories, triumphs won from a whirlwind, the perennial ripping at wrappings. The boy has developed an expensive interest in instant photography, but I love many of the pictures that he takes and find it pleasant and satisfying to suddenly be a subject of photographic interest for him. I have fallen greatly for the lucky and unlucky accidents that emerge from the blank void before us, of course. Each image arriving within moments of itself. We laugh along at the stilling of our silliness, single frames of laughter snatched from life. The boy asked to keep a number of them for himself. He wanted to have some stored in his room at Mommy's house, in a special drawer he cleaned out for them. I stood back and watched him choose, measuring his love and allegiances, though I tried not to. Turns out that I have nothing at all to worry about in that regard. The boy loves us each in a way that few can love themselves - without question, without end. Those life lessons that I learn anew. In this we make a pretty great team. Here are the pictures that prove it.
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