One of our friends gave Isaac a gift of a notebook the other day. She knows him well. It’s the best present our studious eldest child could have.

Like father, like son. Isaac is a wordsmith at heart. In the same way that some kids spend hours kicking a football around to develop their ball skills, Isaac loves to use words to hone his verbal skills and to show off what he can do. Prose is to him what a stepover is to others.

I came home on Tuesday evening to find him on his third page of joined-up letter practice. On Wednesday, he was working on an account of his day-trip to Beale Park. By the weekend, I’m expecting a first draft of his take on The Hunger Games.

Do I wish that he was a bit more sporty? Yes. He loves riding his bike, he’s a useful runner and he enjoys swimming and martial arts, but he doesn’t have the interest in football or other sports that many boys his age do. It’s probably safe to say he’s not going to be the next David Beckham and I won’t be retiring early and living off his riches. (Rats.)

Hopefully one day he will develop more of an interest in at least participating in sports. Maybe he’ll end up like me. I was resolutely okay-to-quite-good at most sports I turned my hand to, but never great.

Nevertheless I have no complaints that he has something like writing that he actively enjoys and which allows him to express himself. He’s so proud of his joined-up writing – his neatness and precision put my illegible scrawl to shame – and, for a boy of six, his ability to paint a picture with the written word is impressive.

He may not ever develop the right stuff to be one of those kids who naturally excel at sports. But, in terms of his literacy skills, he’s already amply demonstrating that he has the write stuff.

With any luck, his ability to create puns will be better than his dad’s too …