Keep Talking

OK, so I knew being a father would be an often emotional experience, but I had no idea some of those moments would hit me like a ton of bricks. This evening we were sitting in the living room and Margaret was holding Nigel. For the last couple of months we have been trying to get him to say "da-da" and "ma-ma," and so far Nigel has been content to make his own unique noises. Tonight though as he was sitting in Margaret's lap, he looked over at me, smiled, and said "da-da."
At first I wasn't quite sure I had heard what my son said correctly, and so he was polite enough to repeat his new word. "Da-da!" he said with a huge grin. I got a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball, and Margaret actually shed a few tears. My boy called me! I will remember this day for the rest of my life.