No earth-shattering revelations tonight, just a father’s pride.

I have two sons, D (who is 3 ½ ), and M (who is 1 ½). D has always been an early talker, and now M is showing signs of being the same. For all that he’s a carbon copy of me in appearance (down to the same birthmarks), D has always been Mummy’s boy. M, on the other hand, bears no strong resemblance to me, but he’s a lot closer to me emotionally. I’m not sure how much of that is because he can’t claim his mum’s attention as much when he has to compete with his brother, and how much of it is a natural inclination, but I don’t care. He’s Daddy’s boy and I’m not going to look that gift horse in the mouth. Usually dads have to wait a lot longer to be looked up to by their sons (or so I hear).

Back to M. For the first year of his life, he rarely said the word “Mummy.” It’s not that he couldn’t or didn’t know how, he just simply refused to say it. He took to “Daddy” right away. I used to get a little smile when E would try to get him to say “Mummy” and he’d just ignore her. Then she’d prompt him to say “Daddy” and he’d say it back and then look at me. It was one of those cute things that made us smile at him and call him a cheeky bugger. We knew he’d come around eventually. And for the record, he has.

But last night, as we were putting the boys to bed, Daddy scored another one. I was in the study. Apparently, that’s when M decided to construct his first sentence. He walked around his room, then looked up at his mum and asked “Where Daddy?”

That’s my boy!