'Dadda'

I've been called a lot of things in my time – many of them unprintable – but never, until now, 'Dadda'. Funny to go by a certain name for more than 30 years before a little human re-addresses things and bestows a title, no less, on you.  
So 'Dadda' has lovingly been added to a list that's grown over the years; depending on the mate or the situation, I'm Lewy, D.K., Lewis, Dan, Lou, Bunga, and even – when family are involved – Daniel.
Mushiness aside, it's a special feeling, being called something new. The nicknames dry up once you settle down a bit, and stop joining new sporting clubs, travelling and the like. So to hear my little Edith Alba refer to me so sweetly as 'Dadda' gives a 'new-lease-of-life'-type thrill.
I wonder if newly-qualified doctors or ordained priests feel a similar jab of excitement in their gut when referred to by their shiny new titles?
On another note, Edie's started to take a real shine towards me after many a month of being on the outer. She even cried when I left for work the other day – something she normally reserves for when Tash walks out of the room. It nearly broke my heart.
Maybe I need to harden up. They say women soften blokes up, but those with a little daughter as well have no chance.