Encouragingchildren to enjoy sport doesn’t have to cost a fortune

“HAVE you enrolled your wee boy in the rugby tots class?” a mum in a play park asked me.

That was a year ago and my son was only two. So just in case she’d mistaken him for a 12-year-old, I told her: “No, he’s only two.”

“Alfie’s only two,” she said. “He’s been going for months. It’s really brought him on.”

I decided there and then I was a bad mum, holding my son back for life — probably stopping him playing for Scotland, or making any pals.

While Alfie had his pick of pals, girls and jobs, my firstborn would be in the changing room with boys taking turns to sit on his head. So I took him along. Once. I tried to make him understand he had to do what the other kids were doing — putting the yellow ball in the yellow hoop, green in the green hoop and so on.

No chance. He didn’t fully know his colours and was much happier having a tantrum on the floor, totally bewildered by the rules.

That said, some children not much older than him got into the swing of things straight away and had great fun.

Let’s put that particular lesson on hold for 10 years, I thought. Only the pressure hasn’t stopped.

“Is he having tennis lessons yet?” one grandmother asked the other day. “Andy Murray started at three — and look at him.” More guilt. I’m stopping him fulfilling his dream of a Wimbledon title. He’s three — is it too late? And then, the realisation. What. Utter. Nonsense. If you look hard enough in Dundee you can find massage classes for newborns, swimming for six-week-olds, yoga for toddlers, tennis for tots, rugby and football for kids aged two-plus.

Of course, it’s brilliant to introduce your kids to as many activities as possible — but this is all too much.

Is this obsession with making the next champion while still in nappies not just widening the gap between rich and poor?

Shouldn’t children be introduced to a wide range of sports at school, without the need for thousands spent in sports gear and lessons for years before they even start P1?

During school holidays and at weekends, I was dropped off at a tennis club in the morning and collected at night when mum had finished work.

In the many hours between, I made pals, ate toasties and had a knockabout with a racket and ball. I still learned how to play — without a pushy parent watching my every move during an hour-long lesson before being whisked away to pilates for pre-teens.

A kickabout on a bit of grass with jumpers for goalposts — that will surely nurture the next Lionel Messi better than expensive lessons. And it’s free.