God bless Ronald J. Digital, inventor of the digital camera. At last, an instrument that will catch the moment almost every time.

I used to be in awe of "real" photographers who thought nothing of taking a series of perhaps a dozen or more photos, knowing that at least one will turn out well. I was too cheap to pay to have a dozen developed just to get one acceptable print.

Digital photography is cost-free, or so it seems. Mine is not an expensive camera, and I already had the computer, so it's just a matter of snapping away, X-ing out the ones that are really bad.

My current favorite series is the one I labeled "Samuel in Georgia May 2005." Didn't I warn you that I was going to "show" you baby pictures? Sorry.

Samuel and his mom came to visit in the spring, and most of the pictures were right here at our house. In these pix the lad is beginning to be tall and wiry. He is about 20 months old, runs rather than walks, and spends his every waking moment learning. In the hubbub of Hartsfield's baggage claim, those baby blues took in everything in sight, learning. From the back seat of the car, they rarely blinked. He was learning.

I was too, learning. Having raised girls, I can attest that boys are different.

C'mon, let's look at these photos of Samuel in the spring of 2005. First, in case you missed earlier columns, we discovered that he has an almost obsessive about wheels. Wheels are anything remotely wheel-shaped, from stainless steel pan lids to Cheerios.

Yes, really, Cheerios. Look at this row of pix: A dozen Cheerios are in a cluster on our clear glass table, and Sam-I-Am reaches for them and jams a few into his mouth. Then he notices that there appears to be some cereal within reach if he runs his hand under the table too.

Hhmmm. Doesn't work. Over the glass works. Under the glass doesn't.

This set was taken at home, where Samuel's big sisters lock their bikes to an old swing set. Our boy in hunkered down beside a wheel (a wheel!) and has both index fingers in the gears. His windswept hair is like gold silk and he's wearing a white T, and the green grass around him is not to be believed. His concentration is palpable.

Aha! Here he is on the couch caressing pair of in-line skates, huge. Must be his brother Isaac's.

OK, no wheels here: The lad has found where the sun throws a prism of light from our stairway to the tile floor below. He turns in circles, laughs with a shriek, and becomes a little wood sprite.

Look at these: Dave was reading the paper, his chair pulled out from the table to where he had to hold up the section he was reading. The car ads. There were pictures of cars from top to bottom of the page, and Samuel is "reading" every ad on the back page. They all have wheels.

Ah. Samuel meets Frankie. Frankie is a heavy stone frog who sits on the edge of the bird bath fountain just off the deck. With a little help from a hidden pump, Frankie spews water into the bowl all day and all night, and the birds literally do stand in line waiting their turn to splash. This time they had to wait until Sam had satisfied his curiosity.

He stuck his finger in Frankie's mouth and watched the flow change. Then he walked around the fountain, looking for the pump he hears humming. Learning.

Here's the boy lying on the concrete pavement in front of the supermarket, checking out the wheels on a shopping buggy. Learning.

Grandpa takes him for a walk, no, a run on the path behind the house. They watch the ducks from the spillway bridge, and then Samuel came close to beating Grandpa