A boy and his bike

It’s a wonderful feeling when you see your child do effortlessly well at something. Even if that something is risky. Even if that something requires a million precautions to make him safe while doing it. Even if you know that if he continues to do it in the future you are going to develop wrinkles and grey hair at an alarming rate and go through a ton of tranquilizers.

This Christmas our Lil Fella got his first ever dirt bike. A Yamaha PW80. Big Daddy worked on it for days to get it gift ready, repainting it, customizing it with logo’s and even his name and year of birth to make it truly personal. The end result was this.

On Christmas morning when our boy got the Fox racing gloves, he was thrilled. When he got the Nitro helmet (which is a reference to his love of Nitro Circus) he yelled “NO WAY!!!” and when Big Daddy led him outside to his new bike he went quiet, then yelled “NO WAY! You’re not serious!!” in a slightly higher pitch and slowly sat on it, all the while treating it like the Holy Grail. He looked up at us and said “I think I’m going to cry.”

I was so close to welling up, you know, from witnessing the pure joy on his face and all, when he quickly nipped those fluffy feelings in the bud…

VROOOOM VROOOOM VROOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!

Once my heart regulated back to normal I tried to talk sense to the young one.
“Hey little buddy, I know you are super excited and all but it’s still 6am and this sleepy Welsh village may not like…”

VROOOM VROOOM!!

“What??” yelled Lil Fella

VROOOM VROOOM VROOOOOOOOM!!

“Aw babe it’s Christmas, let him have this,” Big Daddy said indulgently.

VROOOOOOOOM!!

Clearly coffee was in order. I wasn’t going to win this one.
“I’ll have a grande quadruple shot full fat latte,” I said hopefully to the kettle.

The instant that the sun came up, the boys were suited up, Lil Fella had the helmet and gloves on and was like an excitable puppy. Where we were staying was perfect for this. There was a field and a BMX track at the back of the cottage. Both looked unused. Both were not unused for long.

“Are you having a go Mum?”
“Hahahahaha…” I looked down at him looking confused at me. “Oh you’re being serious? No dear – an uncoordinated coward has no business being on a bike.”
“OK,” he said running out the door, with a just as excited Big Daddy and the rest of the boys in hot pursuit (this was Big Daddy’s family who we were staying with – so we had 1 other young boy and 3 grown men. 5 young boys in total running out to play).

I expected Lil Fella to take a couple of days to get used to the balance of the bike and get to grips with the mechanics and the fact that he is controlling a fast machine. However by the time I came out with my camera, it wasn’t immediately clear to me who was on my boy’s bike. There was a smallish person, dressed like Lil Fella but this boy knew what he was doing. He was gunning it around the field looking like he’d been doing this for years.

It was only when he waved and did the classic ‘Look Mum!’ that I realised that the confident boy on the bike was in fact my son. Wow, he was going so fast.

“Look how fast he’s going!” I said
“Babe, he hasn’t moved out of first gear yet.”
“Ah… so it get’s faster then,”
“Yes babe, I’m going through the gears with him in a minute.”
“Ah”

So Big Daddy and Lil Fella talked gears, and I went back inside to thaw out a bit. The next time I popped my head out they had discovered the BMX track which was a bit small for motorized bikes, but since nobody was around there they were, revving over the large bumps and getting a bit of lift off the ground while they were doing it as well.

VROOOOOM!

As Lil Fella wiped out for the first time (which looked rather spectacular with him launching over the handlebars, doing a forward roll and without a second thought getting back on the bike) I expected to feel a kind of sick-faint-freaking-out feeling. Instead I was not only impressed by his guts, I found I was also immensely proud of him. Never the less, there was mothering to be done.

“Do you think it would be a good idea to take a break,” I asked. Poor little guy would probably need a rest after his tumble. Perhaps a hug and nice cup of hot chocolate…
“No thanks!” Lil Fella yelled, roaring past me.

VROOOM VROOOM!!

“Alrighty then,”

So I wandered back inside and spent some time pottering about and listening to the sound of a dirt bike tearing up the field. Eventually the boys came in when they ran out of petrol. VROOOM VROOOM!

“Best Christmas EVER!!” said Lil Fella looking exhausted.
5 minutes later…
“Let’s do that again!”

You better watch out, you better not cry…

Better not pout I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town…
This time of year for me is never about who is coming to town but more about who is leaving. It seems that tis’ the season to pack it in, say farewell to London and shimmy on home to Cape Town.

London is not a permanent city for most people. It’s very cosmopolitan and we have a constant ebb and flow of Saffa’s (and Aussies, and Kiwi’s and various Europeans…) It’s different for me because I am fixed. After a couple of years here we realised that we weren’t going to be rolling with the tide and finding our way back to Cape Town. I love it here, but it means that I have to live a life of “Hey, nice to meet you,” followed shortly by “Cheers, see you sometime on the flipside.”
I may pout just a little… I haven’t yet been on the flipside.

He’s making a list, and checking it twice…
Lists? I am devoid of lists this year. I don’t know what the heck I’m doing but it’s rather nice. Stuff seems to be happening regardless. Our place looks awesome, with what can only be described as the best tree in the world sitting in our lounge.

I am not hosting Christmas day this year and will be traveling to Wales. This brings its own challenges, which I will explain in a bit.

Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice…
There are presents and then there are PRESENTS! Our Lil Fella after weeks of deliberation, mind adjustment, therapy on my part and a just a few pounds, is going to be getting his first bike for Christmas. No, not bicycle – bike. With a motor. A mini version of a dirt bike. I blame Red Bull X-Fighters for this. As much as I love watching the likes of Robbie Maddison and Nate Adams doing amazing stuff on bikes that really just shouldn’t be possible, and as much as I think it’s cute how Lil Fella has for the past 4 months been trying to pull tricks on his bicycle it’s another story slapping him on a motorized vehicle. However I have gone through everything in my head, researched some stuff and had extensive talks with the husband and now think I’m mentally ready to become the mom of a boy with a dirt bike.

Either this is going to be the most expensive phase ever or I will be tranquilized in a few years time while watching my Lil Fella attached to a bike, leaping a thousand miles in the air, leaving the bike, reattaching himself to the bike and then landing on a mound of dirt. Or the other scenario is he just decides to go really fast around a track.
Oh and remember the challenge I mentioned earlier? Yeah, that would be getting a bike to Wales without the Lil Fella noticing so he has the pleasure of opening it on Christmas day.

Santa Claus is coming to town..

5SFREZTTWAP7