1995, Ireland Co. Cork,.

Me and my little family were doing fine.

Despite the whole toddler and newborn troubles, I was safe to say that I actually enjoyed being a dad.

I wasn't serious, I was a fun dad. I interacted with my daughter and son like they were my friends and my kids. I didn't control them, although it was safe to say that they were very sweet kids.

Niamh was like her mother.

A spitfire, that is. She was a big bossy boots, but she also had a softie heart on her. Sometimes, if I peeked in her bedroom door before bedtime, I always saw her tucking in her teddies and pressing kisses to their foreheads.

It was sweet. That whole childhood innocence. And if anyone planned to touch her or my wife in the wrong way, they wouldn't be able to touch anything because I'd break their hands off.

The Mrs was at home with Tony while I was busy driving up to the nearby greenaway to take Niamh on a walk. She'd been stressing and crying all day for a reason I did not know, and I wanted to clear off her stroppy, worked up mind.

"You ready, Niah?" I asked once I had the car parked, turning in my seat to look at the sour girl in the backseat who just huffed and kicked the back of my seat like some angry bunny. "I dont want to!" She huffed, kicking my chair.

"Come on, just some daddy daughter time. When were home mammy will have dinner ready."