My Dad started making audio recordings of me when I was about 18 months old. As I got older, and my younger sister joined in, the recordings progressed. Amateur news and weather reports, plays, singing; generally fighting to be heard over one another. Often we'd hardly said anything before pleading with Dad to play back the tape, so we could hear our voices.
I hadn't listened to the tapes for years, and wasn't completely sure they still existed, let alone that I'd find them in the stuffed loft of my soon to be sold family home. But after two days of sorting though decades of old school books and toys, I finally discovered them in a dusty box.
It was funny and nostalgic listening to me and my sister being silly and noisy at various ages, but what I was most struck by was hearing my Dad be a Dad to us. On the tapes you can hear him give us comfort, laugh with (and at) us, and get driven to exasperation. It's something a photograph can never give you, and I'll be forever grateful Dad took the time to record our antics.