A Girl's Best Friend

"She won't be comparing them!" my friend insisted. "That's the point. She'll be complete. She'll have all those reassurances already in place. A foundation. She'll look at a guy just as . . . a person. She'll be able to see him, instead of her own neediness."

I pondered the theory. I thought about the big sign my husband bought and hung over the closet door in our girls' room. "No Matter What." It's shorthand for what he says to them often: "I'll always love you, no matter what." He tells them they might behave like monsters sometimes, and he might respond with a roar of his own; they might disappoint him sometimes, and he might cry. "But I'll always love you, no matter what."

At dinner, he'll quiz them. Q: "How long have I loved you?" A: "Forever." Q: "How long will I love you?" A: "Forever." Our girls are old enough now to start rolling their eyes at this, but he insists.

He coaches their softball team. He helps them study. He surprises them with crumb cake. He applauds their attempts at fashion shows, no matter how gaudy. He turns himself into "The Inspector" when it's time to clean their rooms, refusing to sign off until every last dirty sock is in the hamper. They fight to sit next to him at dinner. One hangs on him; the other eats from his plate. He fake-whines about all of this, and so they do it more.

I always knew he was a good dad. Somehow, I never really considered the motivation. Somehow, I had it in my mind that being a good dad was a matter of pride. Something a man does for himself. Like waxing a car; he does it to stand back and feel proud of the shine.

My friend put a new light on it. Fatherhood: a vital job a man does or doesn't do -- impacting so much future, blazing a path toward lasting love.

Eventually, we got back to the movie. The cat came in, curled up on my husband's belly, the girls still flanking him. "I can't take this," he said. "Girls, I need some room here! Do I look like a piece of furniture?"

They ignored him.

Jeanne Marie Laskas's e-mail address is post@jmlaskas.com.