THAT'S MOLLY OUR BABY giving her senior class ring a ceremonial twist for good luck after the annual Ring Mass at the Cathedral Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul where the graduating class of Little Flower High School received their Class of 2008 school rings. Like almost everything at Little Flower the ceremony was filled with school traditions passed down from alumni to seniors to juniors to sophomores to incoming freshman in a seamless embrace that has spanned six decades.

Molly was a public for the first ten years of her formal education from pre-school to eighth grade at C.W. Henry Elementary School in Mt. Airy. From vividly remembered personal experience in Philadelphia Archdiocesan grade school, I never thought there would be a day when I would gladly send one of our children to Catholic school, let alone an all-girl Catholic school in an unsavory neigborhood in North Philadelphia across Lycoming Street from Hunting Park. But Little Flower, named for St. Theresa, proved to be a special school during our first visit with Molly during an open house four years ago.

It seems like yesterday. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was yesterday. But that Class of 2008 patch that Molly has been wearing for more than three years proves that her high school days will be over in June and then our little flower will be off to college, and our nest will be truly empty for the first time in 36 years.

I'd shed a tear but I'm too busy clicking my heels.

I kid my little 17-year-old daughter who, no matter what the occasion, chooses to address me with an exasperated teenage double syllable, "Daa-duh." She's the light of my life, of course, but she has that uncomon ability of teenage girls to make their fathers' presence feel as welcome as acne on prom night. I'm not saying that Molly would try to get another date to the annual Father-Daughter Dance in December, but she has hinted that tickets are going to be hard to come by.

I know she loves me as much as I love her, but teenage girls tend to treat their male parental units with the same enthusiasm as nine year old boys treat an ant colony. I'm used to it by now and it really doesn't hurt except when I breathe.

But I look at my little girl, the lovely duckling now a stunning swan, and I'm so happy and proud. She's smart and poised and funny and, for the most part, nice. She is the youngest of our children and the best thing to have happened to her mother and father and brother and sister. We thought our family was complete, and then along came Molly. And once again we discovered how much love a baby brings into this world like a personal gift from heaven.

Call me anything you want, sweetheart. I'll always answer.