PLG Day! I am pleased to designate March 20, 2006 as the much-anticipated PLG Day promised to me since we met Zoe 18 months ago: the day Zoe officially became "Papa's Little Girl."

I entered Zoe's classroom at daycare for the pickup. Mama usually gets pickup duty and my appearance at daycare perhaps once a week has been greeted by tears and fears, running into the teachers' arms, refusing to hold my hand for the walk to the parking lot. This requires the assistance of a teacher, playing temporary havoc with their ratios.

On PLG Day, Zoe saw me at the classroom door, got up from her arts & crafts project, and ran into my arms. She put her coat on and reached for my hand and led me first to Jesse's classroom to get him, then to the parking lot.

Mama is home, but bogged down with strep and a fever, begs for privacy to keep the infection from spreading. I try to pay some bills and get in some computer time, but Zoe is all over me like a cheap suit, climbing into my chair with me, pleading to look at family photos on the computer.

I give her dinner; she smiles and thanks me as each item is delivered to the table. Then she and Mama have a much-needed hot shower, immediately afterwhich--hair still soaking wet--she asks me for a bath.

Then it's time for her favorite bedtime ritual--being picked up by the armpits and made to fly horizontally in the air while I'm supporting her from the floor. A vertical puff of breath sends her hair in all directions. I get a tickle in and bring her down to earth as she laughs hysterically. And, in bringing her down to earth, she gets a little peck on the cheek.

This has been going on for perhaps a few months. But on PLG Day, Zoe answered back with a peck on Papa's cheek. Not blowing a kiss after much prodding, but the real deal. Then a kiss for Mama (now sufficiently loaded with antibiotics).

This morning was fairly typical (and I'm still considering it part of PLG Day, which is a 24-hour period regardless of what the calendar says), finding Zoe in our bed in the early hours after having wandered into our room for her last few hours of sleep. I'm running late for work, but Zoe awakens and stops me cold in my tracks by dictating her breakfast order from the comfort of our bed. "Papa! Chocolate milk...hot cereal!" Work can wait--how can I say no to that?

Zoe finds her way to the kitchen, parks herself in her chair and wants to watch "artoons." I mix the chocolate milk and make her lunch while the oatmeal cooks, then park breakfast in front of her as I put my coat on.

"Papa work?" Yes, I explain, but I'll see her later. And as I've done every morning for the last few months, I planted one on her cheek on the way out the door, expecting nothing in response.

But on PLG Day, I stopped for a moment and turned my cheek. And got one back in return.

"Bye-bye, Papa!"

A car? Body piercing? Tattoo? Cell phone? A $200 pair of jeans? On PLG Day, they're all yours for the asking.  ¶ 5:07 PM