Several years ago when Lena was maybe three or four, we had spent the early part of a winter day building a snowman - one of Lena's first. We came in, had a bite to eat, maybe we had some hot chocolate, I don't remember, and started getting ready to head to Cornwall to pick up Kate, who was there for a conference, or training or some other corporate function. I sat at the computer for one last check of my e-mail and I saw two teenagers come running onto our lawn and flatten the snowman. I was furious and ran to the door. As I yelled at them they ran off.
Lena was very upset and crying. I got her dressed in her snowsuit in record time, got my coat and boots on, strapped her into the car seat and I burned rubber down the street where I caught up with the miscreants a couple of blocks away. I gave them a good dressing down, demanded they look at what they had done to my girl (who was still bawling in the back seat), asked them for an explanation (which they could not provide) and made them look Lena in the eye and apologize. I also suggested they go back and rebuild a snowman, which they didn't do, but I think I made my point.
I raise this because Lena remembers the incident vividly and has brought it up a couple of times in the last little while telling me how much she appreciated what I did that day and that makes me feel unbelievably good. I hope part of her appreciation is that she knows I will always be there for her.