Pleasantly diverting, this description of his daughter's first two years by a senior editor at Parents magazine just barely avoids becoming cloying. While some might contest his assertion that ""fatherhood is...the express lane to the greatest happiness a man can possess in life,"" McCoy's joy is evident. He resists going into the details of Amanda's birth (""the pushing and all that"") but confesses that he immediately adored his ""purplish-red, slime-covered beauty queen"" and remains a doting father, telling friends about his ""miracle child."" He's less Pollyanna-like, though, when writing of his and wife Sharon's ""postpartum struggles,"" a period of adjustment after the baby's arrival during which their sex life changed and they discovered new aspects of each other's personality -- some that they didn't like. McCoy sheepishly offers an apology to Tipper Gore for criticizing her campaign to label rock records: Fatherhood has given him a new perspective on the dangers of rock and roll, TV, and movies; he's become a ""cultural conservative."" His long list of ""fatherhood vows"" includes his hopes that Amanda won't grow up thinking she has to be perfect or be frustrated by small failures, that he'll always laugh at her jokes, that she'll love garlic, believe in her own worth, know that ""'God-fearing' refers to respect, not terror,"" and love to travel. There are some delightful moments here, such as the baby's 2 A.M. discovery of Tito Puente's music and the naptime when she offered Dad her bottle. McCoy's plea for paternity leave deserves attention, as does his contention that men are as nurturing as women. But his rationale for selecting Ozzie Nelson as the perfect father figure will make some readers wince. Veers too often from silly to pretentious to touching; it's like reading the journal of a thirtysomething character.