That was until Megan, my older sister, went to college.

The thing in the circular was a Dynex DX-WC1. The price, $39.99, was the first thing my father noticed. He picked up the grainy, black-and-white newspaper photo. "Looks like a tiny robot frog."

The camera saw its first crisis when Megan’s boyfriend appeared on her end. The Dynex faithfully rendered his smug grin in 15 frames per second, his voice tinny and thin. My mother’s face on the Dell’s screen was unreadable, but the camera didn't need to read her—it just showed her to Megan, a silent, pixelated witness to a thousand small betrayals and reconciliations.