MATTHEW'S christening went exceptionally well.

He was so laid back.

When the vicar baptised him in the font he didn't complain.

He was passed around, kissed and cuddled by more than 70 people without the slightest cry or whimper, when he could have been forgiven for being grouchy, sleepy and cranky.

But now the house looks like the stock cupboard at Hamleys toy store in London. It's chock-full, floor to ceiling, with toys and gifts.

That's because we've had a double whammy of presents, with Emily's birthday and now the christening.

Moving around the house is like potholing, crawling through narrow caverns of board games, cuddly toys, money-boxes and Winnie-the-Pooh bowls and dishes.

It will be some time before we're back to any sort of normality.

It's lovely, though. And people have been so generous.

Louise and I flopped once we got home after the christening, many months of planning behind us. We were worn out. Emily was playing with her toys and Matthew was having a well-earned rest in his cot. Phew.

Then Lou went to check on Matthew and discovered him about to climb over the side of his cot like a crack paratrooper.

So, rather than relaxing that evening, I had to take the cot to bits and lower the base so that it now resembles a play pen and means he can't break his neck trying to clamber out.

There's never a break from this parenting lark.