From the time I was three or so I have a lot of memories. I remember my father braiding my hair every morning, and sitting at the table to eat breakfast cereal together. My dad liked to play number and letter games with me. On Saturday mornings we would sit side by side on the couch and· watchSesame Street reruns. We'd sing the alphabet and numbers songs along with the characters and their guests. My dad thought Letter Man was hysterical. Big Bird was my favorite.

I also enjoyed playing with my Legos while my father worked at his desk in the living room. My dad's a lawyer, so he often brings paperwork home. He says he brought work home on weekends so he wouldn't have to go into the office. He wanted to take care of me as much as he could.

For as long as I can remember we ate out on Sunday evenings. I recently asked him why

he bothered bringing a wiggly three-year-old to a restaurant. He said he wanted me to learn early how to behave properly in public. We always went to the same restaurant, sat at the same table, and ordered the same meals. He'd have roast beef with a baked potato. I'd have a hamburger without the roll and mashed potatoes. For dessert he'd have apple pie and I'd have a scoop of chocolate ice cream.

I remember being sad when the weekend ended and my father had to go back to work. I never liked being with the baby-sitters as much as with my dad.

One morning my dad announced, "No baby-sitter this morning. Today you are going to nursery school and I want to take you myself for your first day." He braided my hair especially tightly.