A parent's guide to World Cup addiction...

We've finally reached the knockout stages. It's been two weeks of intensive group matches, three games a day, goals by the bucket load and a wallchart that has become the centre of our seven-year-old's world.

"Daddy, what were the scores?"

"Daddy, who scored?"

"Daddy, can I check the group standings on your phone?"

"Daddy, will every England game finish 6-1?"

In the space of a fortnight our football-loving son has turned into a World Cup obsessive. At school, we hear, there are arguments over who will be Jesse Lingard at playtime - although apparently no one wants to be Gary Cahill - and at home his England T-shirt is now 14-days unwashed. He's collecting Pringles cans for a free pop-up goal, he's judging national teams' supporters by the quality of their fancy dress and he's beginning to sound a lot like me when watching the live games.

Gazza and his boobs

This will be his first World Cup, the one he vaguely remembers when he has children of his own and he will speak to them of Trippier, Kane, Alli and co in the same way as I talk about Lineker, Platt and Barnes today. It's just a pity he doesn't have an England team song to recall with the modern day equivalent of Waddle and Hoddle swaying infront of a microphone pretending they can sing.

And while today's players are arguably more inspirational for their professionalism and regimented approach to training and playing, I can't help but feel that today's kids are missing out on a Gascoigne. Football for the vast majority of children in the UK will never be any more than a bit of fun, they won't make it to the Premier League and to international glory, but they will make it to the playground and the park with their friends, enjoying the fun of a spontaneous kickaround. But where's the fun in today's England team? Who's sporting the comedy fake breasts and throwing cake in the Captain's face? Answer, no one. And if they were, the chances are that the press would have a field day, social media would go into meltdown and the boobied player would be dropped faster than you could say "terrible example to the kids."

Anyway, in our house, it really is just a bit of fun and, although the filling in of the aforementioned wallchart within 30 seconds of the final whistle of every game is beginning to get a little draining, we're enjoying seeing the world's greatest footballers flounce about and crash out.

Roll on Colombia on Tuesday.

COMING SOON: How to deal with your child's crushing disappointment at England's World Cup exit.