I remember a conversation I had with some of my fellow students when I was studying photojournalism. The question was simple and silly:

What's the greatest photograph ever taken?

There are a lot of ways you can go with that but mostly the answers were the predictable Pulitzer Prize winners or the classic images hanging in art museums. My answer was different and, to be truthful, driven by a desire to impress a female in the room, but it was also heartfelt and I've never forgotten it.

I said the greatest photograph ever taken was the picture you carry in your wallet or purse of someone you love.

I was told that I hadn't really answered the question and that's fair enough. The significant young woman just rolled her eyes and the question remains unanswered, but I still say my answer trumps the Hindenburg blowing up.

This is my son, Teddy. You could never love this picture as much as I do and that's perfect. But this picture is a part of my family now, and all of the Pulitzer Prizes in the world can't shake its miraculous grip on us.

I have a remnant of Teddy discovering mobility. Today, as I write this, it's the greatest photograph ever taken.