Who's the daddy?

The last few days in the Mome household have been something of a challenge...

Following a weekend away that was billed as 'Homegroup Christmas'... and ended up being 'Homegroup Sickfest' when 8 out of the 12 people present (including The Wife) succumbed to a vomiting bug, we limped home on Monday, only to find that Moo had brought the bug with her... There's nothing quite as guilt-inducing as ignoring her noctural chirping only to find that what she's actually been doing is yodeling her evening meal, and you have to wash pasta out of her hair before you can go to bed...


By Tuesday, things were settling down... leaving just a heavy cold for Moo and The Wife (who was also preparing for a job interview - now without the help of the Internet which had also disappeared at some point during Sickfest). Then, after a brief moment of family togetherness (mostly spent on a desperate shopping trip to Asda), I finally succumbed to the bug and retreated shivering to bed, leaving The Wife trying to prepare for the interview without any help...

The interview was a bit of a disaster... 

Long story short... the last few days have been pretty miserable.

However, in the midst of all of this, there one bright shining point of light has appeared... because, at some point in the midst of the sick and sneezing, Moo has learned to say 'da da'. She hasn't actually attached it to me yet, but that doesn't matter... Even as I lay shivering in bed, the memory of standing in the Asda dairy aisle asking my daughter 'Who's the daddy?' and getting 'da da' in response was easily enough to bring a grin to my face.

I think I now understand just a little bit of how God must feel when we learn to say his name...