IMAGINE for a second that you've never ever sneezed before and yet, suddenly, you have this overwhelming feeling that the pointy thing attached to your face is going to explode.

Or how about trying to breathe, but... you... can't... quite... get... the... air... in... and.... out... of... those... weird holes in the pointy thing.

And then, worst of all, you're asleep, dreaming about dummies, and baby yellow ducklings, and soft rabbit toys, and pinching your big brother on his arm, but then you wake to discover that your little belly doesn't feel very well at all.

And some of that strange gooey gunk which kept coming out of your nose is now trapped in your throat, and, vamoosh, you've just showered your poor daddy with a slimy mix of snot, baby milk and slavver.

Welcome to Katie's world in the week when it was her turn to have the family cold.

Or rather, welcome to my world, in the week when I had to take my fair share of looking after our poorly kids.

I actually thought I'd drawn the long straw when Big Brother woke up crying and I suggested that stay-at-home mum should go and see to him as I had to be at work in the morning.

Screech

I realised the error of my ways when, moments later, the bedroom was filled with the spine-tingling screech of what sounded like a demon being constructed of tin cans.

I turned on the light, half expecting to see some creature with a rotating head, only to remember that I was, in fact, a dad with responsibilities that don't get put on hold because it's 4am.

It's at moments like that, when your senses are at their most befuddled, when parenting is perhaps at its most challenging.

I really needed to get back to sleep, aware of the clock ticking towards the time when it was time to get up.

And yet Katie kept on waking up every few seconds as she tried to breathe … spat out her dummy in desperation … missed its soothing powers … and started making horrible noises all over again.

Sleep

There's no rolling over and going back to sleep, no turning the other cheek.

It's down to you.

Nothing better serves to remind you that parenting is an inexact science than those middle-of-the-night wake up calls.

Should you sing to her, rock her gently, lie her down, wrap her up in a blanket or put in some earplugs?

All the time, I wrestled with the fear that only a parent knows: that maybe she was going to be sick all over me again.

In the end, I opted for the approach which proved that I really couldn't win.

I turned on the light, listened to the croak of a cranky kid, put her dummy back in at least 100 times, and hoped that Katie would eventually go back to sleep.

I'm not sure when she did eventually did nod off, but the first time I became aware that she was snoring merrily was when my alarm went off to signify the start of another day. I grumpily got up for work … leaving Katie sleeping like a baby.