MATTHEW'S making great strides forward.

Well, not so much strides as shuffles.

It all began last weekend.

We put him down on his activity mat, with his toes pointing towards the sofa and his head in line with the television.

He was very happy and began gurgling and cooing with satisfaction.

I made a cup of tea, Louise did something else, and when I brought the tea into the living room Matthew was pointing in exactly the opposite direction.

"Have you moved Matthew?" I asked Louise.

"No."

"You must have done. Have you seen him?"

"Honestly, I've not," protested Louise.

We looked at each, proud parents.

And now there's no stopping the little fellah. Put him down and he's like a synchronised swimmer (well, without the water and synchronised with himself). He rolls on to his side then manoeuvres himself in 90-degree turns.

Meanwhile, Emily's shown great interest in vacuuming.

She came over to me as I was on my knees, and my head and Dyson nozzle poking underneath the settee and said: "Daddy, can I do that?"

Music to my ears.

"With pleasure, daughter."

And so I gave her a masterclass in the art of cleaning in the most efficient manner.

And then Louise said: "You've got to move the furniture."

Half an hour later, furniture moved, the vacuuming was done.

And Emily had played her part. I felt proud of her and was excited that another pair of hands could be called upon to help with the chores.

Sadly, her interest was short-lived and passed quickly to her T-rex toy.

I suppose, at four-and-a-half, there's at least another decade to go before I can realistically pass that job on to her.