How do you know when you’ve found an activity your child genuinely loves?

I never imagined that one of the small mysteries of motherhood would involve trying to work out what my child actually enjoys doing.

Not what he could be good at, or what looks impressive on a school form. What does he genuinely love?

As parents, we spend years introducing our children to things and quietly watching for signs. I had always assumed ability would be the clue. Cyrus made me wonder whether enthusiasm tells us more.

We’ve tried tennis, football and swimming. There have been activities embraced enthusiastically and others that have quietly disappeared from family conversation. Then, one weekend, I found myself in my mid-40s wielding a miniature putter beside Cyrus at Dinosaur Encounter Golf at Heighley Gate Garden Centre in Morpeth. I thought we were going to play 12 holes of mini golf.

Cyrus thought we had entered the Jurassic Open.

Cyrus took command almost immediately. There are 12 holes, ten life-sized dinosaurs and a waterfall substantial enough to make even an adult temporarily forget they are standing at a garden centre in Northumberland. After a successful putt, Cyrus roared.

The course itself deserves some credit for Cyrus’s enthusiasm because it doesn’t feel as though somebody has just placed a plastic dinosaur beside a putting green and called it prehistoric.

Faux rocks edge the greens, wooden bridges cross trickling streams, plants and shrubs grow between the holes and the course winds around water, slopes and dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are the stars, obviously. There is a towering Brachiosaurus, a Velociraptor poised mid-chase and a Triceratops tucked behind the waterfall at Hole 7.

Cyrus squealed when his ball narrowly avoided disappearing towards it. Meanwhile, I discovered that mini golf is good at exposing a grown woman’s patience. There are ramps and slopes and also innocent-looking bumps capable of sending a perfect putt somewhere it has absolutely no business going. Then you have to retrieve your ball while your child offers tactical advice. A truly humbling experience.

There are prehistoric facts dotted around the course too, so children pick up snippets about dinosaurs while working out how hard to hit the ball. It manages to be educational without feeling suspiciously educational, which is quite an achievement for a family attraction.

As parents, I think we quietly watch for signs. Could swimming be his thing? Football? Tennis? Music? Golf?

We expose our children to activities partly because childhood should contain new experiences, but there is another little hope underneath it. What if this will be the one that sticks.

I had assumed the clue would be ability. Maybe he’d show some natural talent and we’d recognise it. But watching Cyrus that afternoon made me wonder whether I’ve been looking for the wrong thing. He wasn’t interested in whether he had perfect putting technique, he just wanted to practise.

Afterwards, Cyrus started practising at home. A rug and a few household obstacles became a perfectly serviceable putting course.

Then we began talking about where we could play next. Forgotten Crazy Golf at The Alnwick Garden went onto the list, as did Lost World Adventure Golf in Tynemouth.

Cyrus might love mini golf for six weeks, six years or until something else catches his attention. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that, for an afternoon in Morpeth, he couldn’t wait to get to the next hole.

I think they tell you, just not necessarily in words. They ask to do it again. They practise without being asked and they talk about where they can go next. Or, in Cyrus’s case, they march around a miniature golf course roaring like a Tyrannosaurus rex.

Parents can stop searching quite so hard for signs of talent because aometimes enthusiasm is enough.

Would I go again? Yes. In fact, apparently we’re now people who research crazy-golf courses.

Occasional stories, experiments, discoveries and challenges from Saffron & Cyrus.