John Beale, Post-Gazette Reid and Mayumi Loper try to make a webcam connection with Mayumi's mother in Tokyo as 1-year-old Anika plays on the floor in their Dormont home. The Lopers use the webcam to make almost daily visits with Mayumi's mother. Click photo for larger image. Related Story: How to add Web camera to your computer

It's all about Anika.

Sweet-faced and just starting to toddle, 13-month-old Anika Loper, with little cheeks that almost cry out to be playfully tweaked, is quite simply just too adorable for words.

Through a Web camera, she gets to smile her precious little grin at her maternal grandmother almost every day, even though grandma lives more than 6,600 miles away.

Anika's parents, Mayumi and Reid Loper of Dormont, and her grandma, Miyako Gondo of Tokyo, have Web cameras connected to their computers, enabling them to hear and see each other in real time via the Internet.

"Through technology, my wife's mother has been able to watch her granddaughter go through all the developmental stages that occur during the first year of life; rolling over, sitting, crawling and now, walking," says Mr. Loper, 41, who works for an information technology outsourcing company. "While she can't hold Anika, she can see and talk to her."

About 13 percent of personal computers were outfitted with Web cameras or webcams in 2003, but that dropped to 9 percent in 2004, according to Forrester Research, a Cambridge, Mass.-based technology and marketing research company that annually surveys more than 68,000 North American households. This year, the popularity of Web cameras has increased slightly with 11 percent of personal computers purchased equipped with one.

"You can buy a camera for $30 and set it up in an hour," says David Heidenreich, a strategy and online planning director for Ripple Effects Interactive, a Pittsburgh-based Web marketing agency. "I wouldn't say [Web camera use has] reached critical mass yet, but I'd say within the next few years whenever someone goes out to buy their next computer they'll say, 'I'll get it.' "

About 16 percent of Internet users -- 21 million people -- have viewed a remote person or place via webcam, according to a March 2005 Pew Internet & American Life Project study.

Web cameras don't only connect friends and family separated by a few miles or a few continents. Via Web cameras, people also can passively view the fall foliage in Pennsylvania and New England or a faraway loved one's funeral in Connecticut.

Pennsylvania's official tourism site, www.visitpa.com, features several Web cameras trained on interesting places around the state.

"People can watch fall foliage, Punxsutawney Phil and the elk webcam," says Mr. Heidenreich, whose corporation handles the site's Web cameras. "We had about 25,000 viewings of that last month. You wouldn't believe what the groundhog does. He has a couple girlfriends in there."

Today, people can monitor their children at day care, their pets at pet care and even the security of their homes via one-way webcam communication.

In the more interactive vein -- like Anika and her grandma -- an Arkansas judge has eliminated the five-hour commute to parole hearings by sitting in on them via Web camera. Some humans even use Web cameras to engage in voyeuristic adults-only behavior not suitable for detailed discussion in a family newspaper. Two-way communication requires Web cameras on both ends.

"The way most video conferencing works is that the pictures you see are pictures of people you're talking to, and there's at least 30 years of research that says being able to see the person you're talking to doesn't add much value," says Robert Kraut, a Carnegie Mellon University human-computer interaction professor who has researched the use of personal video for communication since 1980.

"What's more valuable is being able to see the things you're talking about, being able to see the baby or if two lawyers are working together, being able to see the contract they're working on."

Ms. Gondo definitely delights in talking with her daughter about Anika.

In May 2004, Mr. Loper bought two Web cameras and took one to Japan to set it up for his mother-in-law, thus being assured they would have identical hardware and software.

"The cameras cost about $70 each, no additional cost for the connections [they both had Internet connections anyway] and the video is great, but in some ways it's an added bonus," he says. "What's great is we're able to talk to her Mom in Japan for free."

After some troubleshooting, they were able to connect through the America Online instant messaging program.

Because the Lopers use a laptop with a wireless network card for the Web camera, they don't have to take Anika to the Web camera -- which usually sits on a little table in the corner of the dining room next to the laptop. They can take the camera to her.

Her grandmother has seen her playing in the living room, in the sunroom and even in the back yard.

"We actually once carried the laptop and camera up the steps to the nursery behind Anika as we carried her upstairs to put her to bed. Obaachan [grandma in Japanese] could wish her 'Goodnight.' "

During Anika's birthday party in Pittsburgh with her other grandparents, the Lopers propped the Web camera up on gift boxes.

"Mayumi's mother could see the festivities, with the guest of honor, Anika, at the head of the table," he says. "She was able to see Anika open up the present that she had sent her from Japan."

With Web camera communication, the picture can sometimes be out of sync with the words and that can make understanding someone more difficult because people use lip-reading to understand someone else, Dr. Kraut says.

Even when the video and voice are in sync, there's still a bit of a delay between one person's remark and the other's response, which also can interfere with the effectiveness of the communication, he says.

Fortunately for Anika, her parents and grandmother believe any troubleshooting that's necessary is worth the effort.

Most mornings the technology works. On one recent morning, it didn't.

Anika's grandma was having technical difficulties. It was a little after 9 a.m. Pittsburgh time, a little after 10 p.m. Tokyo time.

"Just make sure her camera is working," Mr. Loper tells his wife. "Tell her to go back to live video."

Mrs. Loper types in Japanese via AOL's Instant Messenger, telling her mother how to reactivate her camera.

Little Anika plays with seashells at her mother's feet as her parents try to work through the technical glitches.

"Still nothing?" he asks.

She nods as she clicks through five or six dialog boxes checking her settings.

"Have your Mom unplug her camera, power down, power up and plug in the camera," he tells his wife. "That way, it has a chance to recognize the device."

Anika, now sitting perched on the edge of the dining room table, peers over her mother's shoulder waiting to see grandma's face pop up on the computer screen. It doesn't, but she does hear a snippet of grandma's voice.

"Ohayou [pronounced like Ohio], Anika" Ms. Gondo says, wishing her granddaughter good morning.

Anika smiles, coos and wiggles her tiny hands and feet in recognition.

"Sometimes we can see and hear each other and sometimes, just hear each other," says Mrs. Loper, 28, a former travel agent.

She thinks the Web camera is a wonderful way to keep in touch.

"Anika does something new every day. Last week, she couldn't walk like this. Now, she goes everywhere," she says. "It's really nice for me to talk with my mom and for her to see Anika and for her to see how we're doing."

Mrs. Loper's brother lives in Toronto. She asks her mother whether she has ever asked him to get a Web camera. She laughs at her mom's response.

"No," Ms. Gondo says. Talking on the phone is enough with him. She needs the camera because of Anika.

"I can't imagine not having a PC camera," she says. "I can't live without it."

It's all about Anika.