SOMETHING very strange has happened in our house - my ten-year-old son has come home with a funny-shaped ball.

Clearly, I need to explain. Jack is football-mad. He's been brought up to support Arsenal and it's usually all he ever talks about.

It's our shared passion: sitting up on Saturday nights to watch the Premiership together, eating crisps, drinking shandy and slagging off Man United. But last week, he came home from the shops with... a rugby ball!

"What do you think, Dad? Cool innit? Only cost a fiver," he said with a big smile. "I'm gonna be Jonny Wilkinson."

"But I thought you wanted to be Thierry Henry?"

"Yeah, but I wanna be Jonny Wilkinson now as well - he's mint."

I suspect it's a scene which has been repeated in households the length and breadth of England, ever since Jonny won us the World Cup with that kick.

To be fair, I don't mind a bit because I'm a rugby convert too. We all are, aren't we?

Me and Jack weren't into rugby at all before the World Cup but we sat there in the lounge on that fateful Saturday morning, hardly daring to watch as England took control of the Aussies, then so nearly threw it away, only to snatch it back in the dying seconds.

We hid behind cushions, we flinched at the tackles, we willed our boys forward until the blessed relief of the final whistle, then danced round the room like lunatics.

It was a defining moment in a father-son relationship - especially when the dad in question is too young to remember Bobby Moore lifting the football World Cup in 1966. Me and Jack - we saw England win the World Cup together on November 22, 2003. It doesn't matter that it was rugby instead of football and it won't be forgotten.

Since he bought his new ball, it's been strange to hear him coming home from school, saying things like: "Dad, I scored two conversions and a drop kick today," instead of "Dad, I scored a great goal today."

All this sudden interest in rugby is music to the ears of my mate Stu, a proud dad, local club coach, and the kind of dedicated rugby fan who thinks footballers are wimps.

At the start of the World Cup, he got the chance to buy an England rugby shirt, signed by the World Cup squad and couldn't resist it.

When his wife came in from the shops, he owned up: "I think I've been a bit rash," he said.

"Why, what have you done?"

"I've bought a signed England rugby shirt."

"How much for?"

This is where he swallowed hard: "Only £800."

"HOW MUCH?"

He tried explaining that it would be a good investment if England were to win the World Cup. It was a good try but he failed with the conversion. He was in the doghouse for the full six weeks of the tournament. In fact, he's probably lucky he didn't emerge from a ruck with funny-shaped balls of his own.

But, of course, England did win the World Cup, didn't they? And a couple of days after Jonny kicked us to glorious victory, Stu was able to read his wife a story from the paper. It was all about how an England rugby shirt - signed by the World Cup squad and identical to the one he'd bought - had gone for £20,000 at a charity auction.

Guess what his wife said? "Why the hell didn't you get two?"

Dads - we'll never win.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

NORA Fisher was teaching at a school in Gateshead when the little ones were asked to draw someone they loved.

Geoffrey, aged seven, was asked: "Who are you going to draw?"

"Me Granddad," replied Geoffrey.

Mrs Fisher, now a member of Sedgefield Women's Institute, watched as Geoffrey drew a simple face, with eyes and a nose, but couldn't help wondering why the mouth was detached to one side.

"Why's the mouth over there?" she asked.

"Cos he keeps his teeth in a cup on the mantelpiece," replied Geoffrey.

ELAINE Baxter, of the Saltburn High School Old Girls Association, remembered working in Newcomen School, Redcar, when a young trainee teacher was thrown in at the deep end with a class of five-year-olds. The trainee, who hadn't quite learned how literally children take things, had put vases of daffodils in front of the little ones, ready for an art lesson.

"We're going to paint the daffodils," she explained.

She turned her back for a second and before she could stop them, the children were busy slapping paint on the daffodils, turning the petals blue, green and red.

ELAINE's best friend Sheila Bishop, who was also at teacher at Newcomen School, was telling her class the Christmas story and had got to the bit about the shepherds.

"Who can tell me what a shepherd is?" she asked, only to be met by a sea of blank faces.

"Come on, who knows what a shepherd does?" she repeated.

Eventually, Peter's hand went up. "I don't remember exactly what a shepherd is," he said, "but I know I've had one in a pie".

* The second Dad At Large book makes a great Christmas present for the dad in your life. It costs £5 with £1 going to the Butterwick Children's Hospice for every book sold.

It's on sale at The Northern Echo's head office in Darlington - ask for Dad At Large and he'll sign your copy.