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June 25, 2006

For Caroline, Father’s Day came a little early this year.

Actually, it more like “Father’s Weekend,” when she and Tony went together to “Me and My Pal,” a weekend campout for Girl Scouts and their adult male “pals”—an accommodation to include stepfathers, grandfathers and uncles.

Caroline looked forward to the event for weeks, even though Tony and I were surprised she wanted to go, especially after we explained that the men and the girls would be sleeping in separate cabins. (“Why?” Caroline asked. “Is it because they snore?”)

Tony was honored to be asked by his daughter, and was game to go, but seemed a little more skeptical of the whole thing. Then again, he’s someone who would usually rather be in charge of an event than just being a participant.

But they went, and they had a good time together. After leaving at about dinnertime on Friday and returning at lunchtime Sunday, Caroline reported that camp was great, she had lots of fun, especially in the pool, and the girls she met from other troops were really nice.

Tony had a lot more to say, some about the dads, who bonded around their own campfire after the girls had lights-out and slept under the watchful eye of adult women chaperones, but more about how much fun he had with Caroline.

These are the wonder years for Caroline. No longer a baby and not yet a teen, she is all bright eyes and skinned knees and a burning desire to know and understand everything. She is already more than capable of being embarrassed by her parents (Tony is not allowed to sing in public when Caroline is present—and that includes in the car with the windows open.)

There is little empirical evidence to show how a close relationship with her father affects a girl, but the anecdotal evidence seems to support the idea that as girls move from childhood to adolescence, a supportive father can play a major role.

Such supportive fathers do not treat their daughters as little princesses, who can have the world handed to them without lifting a finger. They do see their daughters as individual people, with their own strengths and weaknesses and hopes and fears.

He learned a lot about his daughter, from how she would like to decorate her bedroom (she’s got ideas for eight different themes) to the way she approaches groups of other kids and joins in their activities. The child who once was paralyzed with fear at the sight of a fly managed to cope with the presence of insects in the great outdoors, if only because she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of new friends.

(When I told Caroline I was writing about her camping trip, she said, “Write about the bugs.”)

Tony made new friends, too. One of the other dads (the one who knew every line of dialogue from “The Godfather”) asked if he planned to be back next year. As long as Caroline wants to, Tony said, he’ll be there.

Michelle Martin is a Catholic New World staff writer.