There is nothing like the wonder of your first World Cup - the misty-eyed nostalgia of youth, summers that seemed to last forever, the gargantuan stars you believed were immortal. In a blink of an eye those childhood heroes became a cut-to in the crowd - Ronaldo, the original, with Roberto Carlos and Kaka - greying legends in suits instead of swashbuckling boots. Still a twinkle in their eye. Aura with achy knees.

Tournaments once so defined now blur into adulthood ambivalence, postcards plotted along the timeline of your life, the details growing grainy. That one you rushed home from school for, those barbecues with your mates, the one you watched in your first house. The summers ended - with a wink, a shootout or a "why didn't he square it?" The World Cup cycle seems to pedal round far quicker as an adult, yet something huge changed since Qatar four years ago - a tournament lived through a sleep-deprived haze in soft-play centres and binge-watching Bluey.

But the past few weeks have brought an unexpected joy. Because, yes, there is nothing like your first World Cup, but there's also nothing like the first World Cup you enjoy with your kid. In the nick of time, our almost six-year-old has become head-over-heels obsessed with the beautiful game - marvelling at its greatest stars, hooked by a cast of new characters in vibrant kits, kidsplaining their celebrations to his parents. What a privilege to share those earliest footballing memories with him.

We thought it might not happen, and that would be absolutely fine, because you can dress them up in Three Lions babygrows and joke about Project Mbappe, but falling in love with the sport has to come naturally - through knees grazed on the playground and a childhood intrigue that breeds between young mates. "Who's better, Messi or Ronaldo?!?!" The eternal question.

Four years ago, any effort to watch a game together was met with the same stubborn toddler resistance as suggesting a midday nap. Suddenly, here we are, knee-deep in Panini swapsies, reeling off an all-star French attack, pointing out the flags and badges of all 48 nations. Shiny Brazil!

Of course, the medium through which he is engaging with this World Cup is different from our childhood experiences, which in turn are different to our parents'. "Grandad saw Pele at Goodison Park?" Poignant for Grandad because he's an Evertonian, impressive for the little one because his favourite YouTuber - Chuffsters - pulled a 99-ranked Pele icon card.

This isn't a bedtime-friendly World Cup for those this side of the pond - we've not yet stayed up late and there's no dashing into school early, class teacher wheeling out a chunky television to catch Senegal shock France. Instead, this World Cup is about climbing into our bed at first light with his little brother, listing yesterday's fixtures and predicting which star player is going to score - a thirst fulfilled through highlights packages. A hearty hit of goals before breakfast.

Waking up last Wednesday was like Christmas morning. Every clip unwrapped the gift of another stunning display. Kylian Mbappe, Erling Haaland, LIONEL MESSI GOT A HAT-TRICK! Because, despite being the same age as most of their parents, it's still Messi who resonates for today's kids - his shirt dotted across Sunday morning playing fields.

But for all that's different, the core things stay the same. Filling out sticker books and writing on wallcharts, unboxing football figures - we've two Bradley Barcolas, if anyone needs? - hours spent pretending to be Harry Kane or Jude Bellingham in the garden, trying to recreate the tournament's greatest goals. This will be the summer we buy a new fence.

It's seeing your heroes come alive on screen and falling in love with unexpected new ones. Where can you find a Vozinha shirt? To enjoy the game through the eyes of your kids is to see it in a different light. One of wonder and a million questions, those you haven't thought about for decades. An experience completely ignorant to the ills of modern football, to politics, ticket prices or hydration breaks. Just the pure magic of the game, an innocent curiosity to know more about it, the uncontrollable desire to 'Siuuuuu!' down supermarket shopping aisles.

Football can be tribal and divisive but at its heart is a sport that unites, whether that's supporters from across the globe embracing each other in a Mexico City fan park or a dad and his young lads gathered around a sticker book in Manchester.

Because the World Cup is a phenomenon that transcends generations. My grandpa died earlier in the tournament - his last interaction with the boys was to post some England stickers picked up with his weekly shop. The sadness of losing him sated by a small, thoughtful gesture - that will be how they remember him.

Whether our young football anorak will remember the tournament too, who knows, and it doesn't really matter. Such is the glorious childhood gift of living in the moment, perhaps next week he'll have moved on to something else, maybe we'll be chasing Pokemon again. And we'll enjoy that together too. But right now, what a beautiful satisfaction it is to experience this World Cup through his wide-eyed wonder, to treasure this passion we share. So, here's to this summer. For me, this is the one that will last forever.

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