Some things stick in my mind, even years later. I can remember this one so clearly because it happened one momentous day. Well it really wasn't that momentous a day.

The weather was bleak. My wife had been gone for more than 24 hours and wouldn't be returning for another 18 days.

The kids had already exhausted me as effortlessly as they exhausted all the activities I had planned for that day.

And I was feeling a little overwhelmed as I contemplated the next 18 days, when their innocent and fragile lives were mine, and mine alone, to mould - or really mess up.

Eighteen days when I could simply sneer at them as they threatened to report my latest misdeed to their mother.

And equally, they could sneer back at me when I looked longingly at the front door, waiting for the cavalry that wouldn't be arriving.

Freya had a runny nose, but was otherwise contented except for the odd time she would cry out 'want my mummy, want my mummy' and wail away with this mantra for a few minutes until I waved something in front of her that caught her fancy.

Tara's cough had returned with a vengeance. She was hacking away night after night.

So it was back to the routine of arguing, begging and occasionally resorting to sheer force in order to get the cough syrup down her throat at bedtime.

The worst incident being when I used an oral syringe to quickly squirt the syrup down into her mouth and she used her throat muscles to quickly spit it all back up over my face.

However, historians never focus on the queasy stomachs of William the Conqueror's troops when they sailed to Hastings, or the nature of Neil Armstrong's bowel moments in zero gravity as he prepared for his lunar descent.

Though as a parent who has gone through the experience of having children in nappies, I would probably find this an interesting topic as long as it was tastefully presented.

However, these are not the things that history records as memorable.

So just ignore what I've written and I'll begin again.

It was a momentous day.

A day I had dreamt of for such a long time. Tara and Shaman were playing together in the next room when I suddenly heard it.

I couldn't have felt more ecstatic if the heavens had opened up and serenaded me with a chorus of angelic voices.

"Kipper had spots," it magically began.

"Biff and Chip had spots, too," it continued with clipped and hesitant words.

"The doctor came," Tara went on as I felt hope swelling inside my chest.

"Stay in bed," she said.

"Mum had spots."

"Stay in bed, too, the doctor said."

And on and on it went until it climaxed with the final immortal line: 'Dad had spots.'

Unprompted, and for the first time, Tara had sat down and read Shaman one of her school books.

I was so overcome with emotion that I felt like jumping for joy and then dropping to my knees - a potentially lethal combination considering I was flat on my back in a bathtub full of water - though I did bring my hands together in silent thanks to the goddess of wisdom and learning.

One small step for human literacy, one giant leap for my household.

My mind reeled with the possibilities.

I could see myself lying on the sofa with a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other - channel surfing as Tara patiently read to Shaman and Freya in the next room while I simply sat back and smiled.