Qua-son & Family

They call him Qua-son.

Not because that’s his name — his name is Dillon Qua — but because somewhere between the rolls, folds and gloriously squishy bits of babyhood, his parents decided their son bore a suspicious resemblance to a croissant.

And once you see it, you really can’t unsee it.

At this stage of Dillon’s life, his entire world is still wonderfully small. His cot. His toys. The mobile hanging above him. Mum wiping his face. Dad leaning in close enough for a tiny hand to grab hold. The fascination of discovering his own reflection and the endless entertainment of simply being lifted into the air.

Nothing particularly extraordinary happened during our time together.

And that was exactly the point.

I wanted to photograph Dillon’s life as it exists right now, rather than create a version of childhood purely for the camera. So I spent time inside his little world with them — watching, waiting and photographing all the tiny interactions that ordinarily disappear almost as quickly as they happen.

A hand wrapped around a finger. A curious stare. A cuddle that lasts only a few seconds. Mum and Dad making him laugh. Being hoisted into the air. And eventually, the three of them heading outside together.

These aren't necessarily the photographs that feel monumental today.

But childhood has a habit of changing quietly.

The cot disappears. The toys change. Those magnificent croissant folds eventually disappear too. Those tiny fingers stop needing yours quite so much. And one day, even the home that seemed like his entire universe becomes somewhere he once lived.

That’s why I photograph days like this.

Not because something remarkable happened.

But because this was Dillon Qua’s little world once. And Mum and Dad were right at the centre of it.