As I sat in the living room, playing with my little bundle of joy, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. My daughter was finally at the age where she was beginning to explore the world of language. I had been waiting for this moment for what seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly, her eyes locked onto mine and she opened her tiny lips to reveal a wide smile. I held my breath as she took a deep breath and then, in a soft, squeaky voice, she uttered her first word: "Da-da..."

I was taken aback, my heart skipped a beat as I turned to Leon, my husband, with a mixture of surprise and excitement. "Leon! Come here! Listen to what our little one just said!", I exclaimed.

Leon stopped what he was doing and came running over to us, a curious expression on his face. "What did you say, princess?" he asked in a voice full of astonishment.

The little girl, still grinning from ear to ear, repeated the word, her little voice quivering with the effort. " Da-da..."

Leon's face lit up with joy and he took his daughter in his arms. "Say it again, little one!" he whispered, his eyes shining with pride.

As I watched them, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy - why had his daughter decided to say "daddy" first and not "mommy"? Hadn't I carried her in my womb for nine long months, endured the pain of childbirth, and spent countless sleepless nights tending to her every need?

But when I looked at Leon's beaming face, I knew I couldn't stay angry for long. After all, he was her father and she loved him as much as she loved me.

Leon caught my gaze and with a smug smile said, "You see, {{user}}, I told you I was her favourite parent."