Zoe sought me out for playtime, engaging me at every opportunity. She wanted breakfast; Sari sent her downstairs to get breakfast from Papa, and she went without hesitation. And she ate everything I could throw at her...two hard-boiled eggs, a banana, a Danimals yogurt. We laughed and made silly faces at each other. All weekend, she kept gesturing for me to follow to watch what she was doing on the playground and around the house (even the bathroom). When I wasn't visible, she kept asking for me. Tonight, she wouldn't let me leave the house to run an errand without putting up a fight.

In addition to Zoe's finally realizing what a great guy her Papa is, I think she's now sensing Sari's growing exhaustion. Since bringing her home over two weeks ago, Zoe has been Sari's constant shadow, including in our claustrophobic 1950s master bathroom. And she's up very early every morning, which seems to be part of her regular routine and will be hard to break. I'm up just as early, but that doesn't mean much when Zoe demands her mother's attention.

Sari truly needed some quality time to herself on Saturday. We wisely decided to time this to coincide with Zoe's typical two hour nap. We kept Zoe up past her regular afternoon naptime and ran her ragged to ensure she was extra-tired. After jump-starting her nap by laying down next to Zoe, Sari burned rubber to get to the hairdresser. It seemed like the perfect plan.

Until 90 minutes later. The phone, which had been strangely silent all afternoon, rang. There's no phone in Zoe's room and I managed to pick it up after one ring, yet it was still enough to wake her up. And bring her staggering into our room.

"Mama?...Mama?" All she saw was me, recovering from my own shortened nap.

"Mama will be home soon." Soon wouldn't be quick enough.

"Mama? Mama? Ma-ma!!!! Ma-ma!!!" The tears started flowing, and she began running throughout the house looking for Sari. She cowered in the corner of Sari's office as I approached to further clarify the Mama situation. "Mama will be home soon...really soon...really, really soon. Jesse, tell her Mama will be home soon." More tears and screams.

To make matters worse, Sari was running late. So I simply walked away and figured Zoe would just have to work it out. In all, the crying and repeated "Mama"s lasted 25 minutes until hunger got the best of her. She composed herself and came to the table for her dinner of a banana and a rice cake. Minutes later, a well-coiffed Sari arrived home to major hugs and kisses.

So where does this leave Zoe and I? I'd say we're about halfway there. The other half is the physical aspect and trust. Zoe still won't allow me to touch her, and she won't touch me, even with so much as a high-five in a moment of exuberance. She'll place objects in my hand and take them, but won't sit next to me or allow other situations where incidental contact is likely. All of this renders me somewhat ineffective where physical contact with your three-year-old is clearly necessary, such as walking in a parking lot or getting her into a carseat. And as much as we clearly enjoy each other's company, we're light years away from going anywhere without Mama.

I described the weekend's progress to my friend Michael, who often walks a tightrope between being one of this blog's groupies, editorial critics and arbiters of good taste. Would it be inappropriate or misunderstood to compare my progress with Zoe to reaching certain milestones in the dating process? Michael quickly reminded me that I was dangerously pushing the envelope with last week's Chiquita intervention, so I won't elaborate further.

Except to say that I think she really, really likes me.

¶ 11:57 PM