LOUISE and I are leading separate lives.

Because she is breast-feeding, her time is occupied with Matthew, while I, by default, tend to look after the Emily activities.

At the weekend we went to the Trafford Centre. Louise went off with Matthew to do some shopping, while I took Emily to a soft play area and spent the next hour diving in ball pools and clambering up rope nets trying to keep up with her.

As we made our way there, Emily and I passed W H Smith, where a large queue of people snaked its way around crash barriers.

There must be a book signing, I deduced. It was none other than Sir Bobby Charlton making an appearance.

"Who's that man with no hair?" Emily asked as we walked past.

I explained that he was one of the most famous footballers ever. Then realised the concept of fame was a bit beyond Emily, who is aged four.

Emily: "What does famous mean?"

Me: "Well, you know how when you walk into school and everyone in your class knows who you are and says 'there's Emily'?"

A nod.

Me: "Well, it's a bit like that when you're famous, except EVERYBODY knows who you are."

I was quite pleased with my explanation.

Emily: "So does EVERYBODY know who I am, daddy?"

OK, so perhaps it wasn't the best explanation. So with a slight tweak...

Me: "Not EVERYBODY, but you're not famous."

Her smile told me she understood. Good, we could go to the play area.

Emily: "Did that man with no hair go to my school?"