There is nothing quite like the wonder of your first World Cup, that misty-eyed nostalgia of summers that seemed to stretch on forever and stars who felt immortal.
Those childhood heroes eventually become familiar faces cut to in the crowd, greying legends like Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos and Kaka sitting in suits rather than pulling on boots.
Tournaments that once felt world-stopping begin to blur into adulthood, plotted like postcards along the timeline of your life with details growing increasingly grainy.
The World Cup cycle seems to arrive far quicker as an adult, yet something significant shifted since Qatar four years ago, a tournament lived through a sleep-deprived haze of soft-play centres and Bluey reruns.
Because yes, there is nothing like your first World Cup, but there is also nothing like the first World Cup you enjoy with your kid.
An almost six-year-old has become head-over-heels obsessed with the beautiful game, marvelling at its greatest stars and hooked by a cast of new characters in vibrant kits.
Falling in love with the sport has to come naturally, through knees grazed on the playground and that childhood intrigue which quietly breeds between young mates.
Four years ago, any attempt to watch a game together was met with the same stubborn toddler resistance as suggesting a midday nap, but now it is Panini swapsies and reeling off a French attack.
This is not a bedtime-friendly World Cup for those this side of the pond, so the experience is shaped by climbing into bed at first light and listing yesterday’s fixtures with a little brother.
Waking up last Wednesday felt like Christmas morning, with every highlights clip unwrapping another stunning display, including a Lionel Messi hat-trick that lit up the household.
Despite being the same age as most of their parents, it is still Messi who resonates most powerfully with today’s kids, his shirt dotted across Sunday morning playing fields everywhere.
Hours are spent filling sticker books, writing on wallcharts, and pretending to be Harry Kane or Jude Bellingham in the garden while recreating the tournament’s greatest goals.
“Grandad saw Pele at Goodison Park?” is a question poignant for one grandfather who is an Evertonian, though impressive to a young boy because his favourite YouTuber Chuffsters pulled a 99-ranked Pele icon card.
To enjoy football through the eyes of your children is to see it in a completely different light, one of wonder, a million questions, and a pure ignorance of ticket prices and politics.
Football can be tribal and divisive, but at its heart it remains a sport that unites, whether that is fans embracing in a Mexico City fan park or a dad gathered around a sticker book in Manchester.
The World Cup transcends generations in ways that can strike you unexpectedly, as one grandfather’s last interaction with the boys was to post some England stickers picked up with his weekly shop.
The sadness of losing him is sated by that small, thoughtful gesture, and that simple act of love is precisely how the boys will remember him.
Whether a young football anorak will remember this tournament years from now does not really matter, because the glorious childhood gift is living entirely in the moment.
Right now there is a beautiful satisfaction in experiencing this World Cup through wide-eyed wonder, treasuring a shared passion that feels both new and timeless all at once.
So here is to this summer, a summer that, for one lucky parent at least, will last forever.
