We took ds1 (then 3) on a five and a half hour train journey down to Wales once. Dh slept most of the way. I had taken a rucksack full of stuff to keep ds1 amused - comics, crayons, stickers, books etc., we'd sung songs, played games, but after 5 hours we had done everything - I found a pair of nail scissors in my bag and made chains of dancing people, snowflakes etc. When we finally reached our destination two old ladies who'd been on a nearby table the whole journey came up to me and said what a delightful and well-behaved child ds1 was and (to him) "you are a lucky boy to have such a wonderful Mummy!" - Still gives me a warm glow
The other one was my Dad - and he didn't even say it. He's your typical over-achieving, high flying, absent father - man of few words and not very affectionate/emotional at all. I never knew as a child if he was proud of me or not, and always had that feeling that I was never quite good enough. When I got my (four) A'levels and rang him at work and reeled off my grades he said "is that all?" - I was heart-broken.
When I went to pick up my degree results, I rang home straight away and he answered the phone (I was hoping for Mum!) I said "Dad, I got a 2:1"...nothing...complete silence. I stood there, feeling like a complete failure - wondering if he knew how it was virtually impossible to get a First, and then my Mum came on the 'phone. "He's disappointed isn't he?" I said. "Oh love," she said "he's so proud of you he can't speak - he's crying."
And now I am too..oooh that father/daughter thing