This weekend was pretty darned cool actually.
On Saturday we attended the LLanrhidian Village Fayre which had us rolling cheeses, racing pigs and drinking. Er… did I mention the drinking?
Lucky for me my wife reminded me early on that we were going to Griff’s new motorbike in the morning so we called it quits long before hangover land was entered.
My biggest takeaway from the fayre was not the village atmosphere nor the camaraderie of men forced to spend a perfectly good day wandering around aimlessly while their kids played exciting games of “throw the ring on the bull” or “throw the loo roll into the toilet”.
It was quite simply that Griffin’s love of guitars will make him a rock star one day.
And of course that will make me rich. I will never have to work.
Ok, obviously I am one of those fathers who pins all his missed dreams on his kid. I gotta say though, he makes it so damned easy. What with his cute charm, his innocence and his “hey Mister who is playing on that guitar it is nice but my one at home is also nice and its bigger than yours”
Pietro and Griff stood for ages watching the musicians ply their trade, crooning out a blend of old and new rock covers. I drank cider and watched them…
Add to that the fact that the next morning he was up at 7am and ready to go.
Go where? you may ask, why, to the store to pick up his new motorbike of course!
We went and fetched it at 10am, the longest three hours in this 5 year olds life… man did they drag on for him. A true “are we there yet?” morning…
His first session went off smoothly – forward forward DRIVE!!!! Until he hit some bumps while riding towards Emma – and the drop off above the cars – and lost control… Sheesh, I have never seen Emma move so fast. She launched herself in front of the bike and grabbed boy and bike and pulled them to ground. Good one love, that could have been a world of hurt (and cost).
He got straight back on and that was the last control loss for the day.
Two more sessions later on in the day saw him wipe out another two times, proper bailing over the handlebars and each time as I run up to him frantic that he is maybe burning his leg on the exhaust pipe or his ankle which is under the bike has been broken or or or PANIC… he looks up each time and says – “Sorry Barry – will you help me pick it up again please”
I love this boy.
Fear? What is this fear thing of which you speak?