The Forgotten Years

When people think about childhood, they usually think about two stages: the baby years and senior year. Everything in between sort of... disappears.

I've spent more than thirty years photographing families, and I've noticed something about that gap. When a baby is born, parents photograph everything -the first smile, the first steps, the first birthday. By the time that child is three or four, there are thousands of pictures scattered across everyone's phone.

Then life happens. School starts. Sports. Dance. Homework. Birthday parties. Weekends fill up fast, and before anyone realizes it, the camera doesn't come out nearly as often. Not because parents care less-if anything, they care more. Life just gets busy.

I call those the forgotten years. They're the years when your child is old enough to have real conversations but still young enough to reach for your hand. The years when they're missing a front tooth, when every pocket somehow holds a rock, a feather, or some tiny treasure they absolutely had to bring home. The years when they're constantly creating something and can't wait to show you. When they're growing into the person they're going to become. Those years feel ordinary while you're living them. Until they aren't.

Have You Noticed This in Families With Three Kids?

The oldest usually has albums full of photographs. The middle child has... quite a few. The youngest? Not so much.

It isn't because the youngest is loved any less. It's because life has become wonderfully chaotic. Parents are driving kids in three different directions. Homework has gotten harder. Schedules have gotten fuller. Dinner still has to get on the table. Pictures slowly slip down the priority list-not because they aren't important, but because everything feels important.

"We'll Wait Until..."

One of the things I hear all the time is: "We're going to wait until her teeth grow back." Or, "We'll do portraits after the braces come off."

Honestly, I get it. Every parent wants to remember their child looking their very best. But I've always seen those moments a little differently. A missing tooth isn't a flaw-it's a season. Braces aren't something to hide, but rather they're part of the story.

Think about your own childhood. Do you laugh about an old haircut? The clothes you wore? Those giant glasses you were somehow convinced looked cool? Those things weren't perfect. They're memorable.

A few years ago, I was flipping through one of my old elementary school yearbooks. When I got to my second-grade picture, I actually stopped. For a second, I thought I was looking at my youngest son. The resemblance was incredible. I don't remember ever looking like that- but apparently I did. Time has a funny way of erasing those little details.

It made me realize something: I wish I had more photographs from that stage of my own life. Not because they would have been perfect, but because they would have reminded me of details I'd completely forgotten.

That's what photographs really do. People often say they preserve memories, but I'm not sure that's quite right. Memories are already there. Photographs preserve the little details that time quietly lets fade away-the freckles, the cowlick that never stayed down, the gap between two front teeth, the favorite stuffed animal, the little hand that always reached for yours.

Those things don't seem especially important while you're living them. Years later, they're everything.

There's Always a Reason to Wait

If I've learned one thing after photographing families for three decades, it's this: there will always be a reason to wait. The teeth. The braces. The haircut. Five extra pounds. A busier schedule. After vacation. Next spring. When life slows down.

Here's the problem: life almost never slows down. Children just keep growing.

I realize I'm biased, but if you want my advice as a parent-don't wait for perfect. Perfect is always moving. Photograph today, because today's version of your child only exists once.

Thinking About a Family Portrait?

If your family is in these "forgotten years," don't wait for the perfect age or the perfect smile. Years from now, your children won't notice the missing tooth. They won't care about the braces. They'll simply see who they were. And you'll remember a season of life that disappeared much faster than you ever imagined.
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