THE boy turned six recently.

To mark the occasion he delivered a list of demands so long and fanciful it was as if he were holding someone hostage. And there was every chance it was his baby sister. The thought that he was being influenced too much by television adverts began to cross our minds when, as well as reeling off the various toys and computer games he wanted for his birthday, he also started making noises about getting a stairlift fitted to take him up to his bedroom. And fretting about his life-assurance policy.

He spent the big day in an abandoned warehouse down a quiet street in one of the less salubrious parts of Glasgow. In The Sopranos that tended to be the setting for sitdown meetings between warring factions. It wasn't much different here except they now call it a soft-play area and the violence is more extreme. Six-year-olds can be pretty vicious at times. And the boys are just as bad.

The passing of another birthday has done little to alter his attitude to football, which remains cooler than a polar bear wearing sunglasses while talking on his new iPhone 6. He still attends football training once a week, the highlight of which - according to the sketchy reports received on the walk home - seems to be running around playing tig. "And sometimes we play a game of football too," he adds, always sounding somewhat disappointed.

The idea of watching football for fun remains as alien a concept to him as sitting still to eat his dinner or not climbing all over the furniture. Matches on television - on the rare occasion when the remote control "goes missing" - tend to be used only to practise his recently-acquired ability to read.

"Who is STM?" he will ask.

"St Mirren."

"And does that zero mean they have scored no goals?"

"Yes," I sigh.

"And the five, does that mean the other team has five goals?"

"Yes," I sigh.

"Okay," he will conclude, satisfied that the world is still spinning normally on its axis.

The boy, then, does not seem ready to attend his first St Mirren game. In fact, he may never be ready, something which may spare him hours of therapy when he is older.

The thought that it would be better to wait until they had hit a run of good form or were almost "guaranteed" a victory against lower-league opposition seemed initially a good one. If he were to witness them winning, he may be more inclined to want to return. Based on current form he is now pencilled in for his first match just before he starts university in 2026.

The only St Mirren fans who go along and expect to see their team win these days are also the same people who are confident they will get all six numbers on the lottery that night.

Instead, we went to the ice hockey one recent Saturday evening to watch Braehead Clan. And he loved it. Granted, a lot of his excitement was simply because he was getting to stay up a lot later than his sisters, but there was enough going on that meant he didn't have to be too clued up or interested in the game itself to enjoy the evening, something football doesn't really provide for.

Ice hockey, like most American sports, is more stop-start than the boy trying to ride his bike without stabilisers but the gaps were filled with bursts of music, chants from the crowd or some other distraction that stopped him from getting bored. And when he started moaning a bit, a giant hot dog soon placated him, while I rewarded myself for some more excellent parenting by having a beer.

He was particularly taken with Clangus, the team's Highland Cow mascot who bounds around the arena, offering high fives and the occasional burst of motivational mooing. The poor creature also had to stand in the centre of the rink at one point to allow fans to "chuck a puck" at him, an innovative idea that kept the crowd entertained, made a lot of money for the club and also earned the best puck-chucker a prize. Mercifully no animals were injured in the process.

Perhaps most significantly it all took place indoors, away from the usual wet, wild and windy Scottish weather that puts off many football fans in winter. With so many other attractions on offer, it might take something drastic to get them back. Something like the Tennent's Sixes.