It is the most important picture any mother will take of her children all year, the photo that defines the family. I’m talking about The Holiday Card Photo.

I vividly remember my dear mom dragging our family to the mall in August of 1982, all six of us decked out in turtlenecks and matching reindeer sweaters, to take advantage of the summer portrait package. Mom thought ahead in every way, taking the picture, saving money and getting it done early. Every way except the fact that, by the time we trudged across the 115-degree parking lot in full-on winter attire, our summer tans had melted away to a clammy shade of pale.

The photo still sits in her house today.

While the experience wasn’t pleasant, I did learn two valuable lessons. The first, to never wear neck-to-toe polyester in the summer, and the second, to always plan ahead for the holiday card.

So, year after year, with every new experience and celebration, I shoot away in hopes of taking what will become THE holiday card shot. This year we posed in the snow, at the park, at the Hutchinson salt mines, at the beach, and on our front porch, all to no avail.

It was while tailgating before the KU-OU football game, all of us dressed in crimson and blue and glowing in the beauty of autumn in Lawrence, that I decided this was the setting for the Dunlap Family’s 2009 holiday card photo.

My idea was not met with what I would exactly call enthusiasm, but after threatening to drag everyone back to the sunflower farm, they willingly acquiesced.

I scouted the hill until I found the perfect spot just below the Campanile, with Memorial Stadium as our backdrop and Kansas-blue skies above. After carefully arranging my husband and four kids for the photo, I found a young guy who seemed capable of working a camera and asked him to help us.

“No pressure,” I told him, “but this one is for the holiday card, so make it good!”

I jumped in with my crew and smiled for the camera, but the photographer wasn’t satisfied. “Let’s try another,” he smiled. He took another picture. And another. And another, laughing more and more after each one. Apparently he had never seen such a cheerful and photogenic family.

Or so I thought.

It was not until we got home that I saw what he had seen.

While the rest of us were looking straight ahead, facing the camera with gleaming smiles, Caroline, our 6-year-old who is known to march to her own drummer, had her head cocked to the side, her eyes crossed, and her tongue sticking out. Every. Single. Shot.

Not a single photo of our crimson and blue family without Caroline hijacking it in the whole series.

After a split second of fury I burst out laughing as I realized I was about to send out our best holiday cards ever.