I dashed back from New York this morning because I had an early afternoon date with a girl in Philadelphia, at a tea room in Rittenhouse Square. My Nora turned five this week, and her mother and I took her and her little doll friend Marie-Grace out today for high tea — scones, jam, clotted cream, finger sandwiches, the whole girly megillah. It was pretty great, let me tell you. Nora was so ladylike and polite. If you had told me before we had her how much pleasure I would take in being a father to a little girl, I wouldn’t have believed it. But boy, does this female child have her daddy wrapped around her finger. I love my boys too, of course, but I’m onto them, Mister. If Baby Girl, though, asked me to jump out of a second story window, I’d ask her if she wanted me to break one leg or two. I’m hopeless. This is going to get real interesting in about 10 years, Lord help me. Thank goodness her mother knows a thing or two about feminine wiles.

I’m wondering if there are any other dads reading this who are especially enjoying raising a daughter, or daughters. How about moms who take particular joy out of raising boys? If so, let’s talk about it.