Dear Niamh,
when I was on holiday in America I went to see this mountain where the faces of four important presidents have been carved. But before the bus stopped here it stopped at a big supermarket so that we could buy our lunch. There I saw some buttons for sale and when I saw one that had the words Niamh is cute as a button written on it I thought Niamh is cute as a button. So I bought the button.

It came all over America with me, in my suitcase. It was in Yellowstone Park where I saw a big black bear who was busy searching in the snow so he didn’t see me or the button. The button has been in South Dakota, Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, Utah, Nevada, Arizona, California and now it is with you in Halifax. Perhaps you will go to all these places one day and have great adventures. Lots of love to you and to mummy and daddy XX Linda.

To add to the already amazing story the button is attached to a cardigan which we presume was also knit by auntie Linda. A truly wonderful gift, from the heart and just because. Gave me a lovely, fuzzy warm feeling inside and really made my day.
Thank you auntie Linda

What happened after this I’m not party to, other than a report card, which we’ll receive every day she’s at nursery. However, the day passed like most others for me only without the feeding, changing and playing. No, today I had to work, which was much less entertaining.

The Daily Report is much more interesting than you might imagine. We have what she ate for breakfast, dinner and tea it also includes what she had for her afternoon snack. Best of all it tells you just how much she managed. In addition it tells us what time her nappies were changed and what was in them, wet or dirty not pissy or shitty, which I think is an opportunity missed. It also told us when she’d slept and for how long.

At first I was cynical about the whole idea, but I spent a good deal of time studying the report trying to fill in the blanks. Normally I would have known everything that went in between too but because I didn’t and my only connection to her day was this piece of paper it held a special significance. By all accounts she was a bit upset when we left, but soon calmed down and spent much of the day climbing and playing and having fun. This is exactly what we had wished for, obviously.

When I went in to pick her up she was sat in a room with just two other children, all that was left at 5pm on a Friday. When she saw me her face lit up, for about a millisecond, and then crumpled into tears. Almost as if she’d just worked out I’d not been there all day. Still, she calmed down just as quickly. I think we can safely say that the first day at nursery was a success.

Still, I went along at eleven and we were introduced to the staff and other babies in the green room. Not, a green room in the Friday Night with Jonathan Ross kind of green room, but literally a room painted green. It is here that my precious collection of 23 chromosomes, snot, shit and dribble will be looked after as I try and scratch a living out of the English language.

I was worried that the child would simply cling to me and cry with all the noise and unusual surroundings. I needn’t have worried. As I struggled to release her from the papoose baby N began to shift and squirm. At first I was confident that this could be calmed by a soothing hug from her second most trusted parent and once I could work out how to get us both extricated from the seemingly endless collection of tabs, straps and clips she would be fine.

Once I had found the solitary Kwik-release button and freed the 9kg terror I embraced her for that much needed hug. A hug to calm her nerves and to make her feel safe. Of course, she simply squealed kicked me and struggled to escape my arms so that she could go and play with all the other babies. The cow.

There then followed the form filling and discussions about nappies and pureed, slightly chunky or, indeed chunky food options. All the while my precious bundle of joy happily played in the corner with a bowl and plastic leaf. I was pleased to see that in a room full of toys she displayed the same disdain for pricey, colourful stuff when there’s a cheaper option available as she does at home, a true Yorkshire girl already.

I’d worked the papoose out in reverse so it only took about 20 minutes of pushing and poking to get her in and clamped to my chest at an angle which made it easy for her to kick me in the nuts. Clearly this girl does not want siblings. And with a single wave of the hand and a barely audible ‘buh bye’ I was ready to leave.

She returns tomorrow with her mother for another taster session but I feel the real test will come on Friday when we leave her in the morning and don’t come back till late afternoon. There will be tears, but somehow we’ll have to get over that and ignore the fact that she hasn’t even noticed we’re no longer in the room.

It’s not the passing feel-good factor you get from watching this or even this it’s more than that and even better it’s unique to me. It’s mine, she’s mine there is nothing that can compare to the fun I’m having now watching her slowly and piece by piece destroy our kitchen. I’m not really bothered about the small pile of macaroni cheese on the floor or the pool of water now sneaking its way toward the plug socket (I will be when it’s a bit closer don’t worry.) because right now my daughter is happy.

It’s this they don’t tell you at the ante-natal classes or at the hospital, and I’m not sure why because all the other stuff is just details. When your child is happy so are you. Obviously, there are people for whom this isn’t true and that’s very sad, but this isn’t a post about those people it’s about me. I’ve had how to put a nappy on lessons, how to bathe a baby lessons, how to feed a baby lessons, but not one person told me the big secret about being a dad and that is: it’s marvellous. I suppose it’d be dumb to have how to think and feel about your baby lessons, but still.

Of course, people say it’ll change your life, but nearly always with a ‘for the worse’ tone to their voice. Late nights, teething, crying for no reason, the first time they fall (my bad), the first time they do anything that remotely hurts you’re wracked with guilt but then that’s because what you want is for them to be happy. Because when they’re happy you are but you get the double expresso hit of being happy because they are happy and happy because you’re goal is to make them happy. It’s a big happy circle that keeps on giving you happy.