After weeks of doing nothing, helping your dad on the job, knutseling with your mum, sleeping in a tent with your grandmother and cycling over to your dearest opa. It’s time to go back to school and meet up with your old friends and the new teacher. Only 88 days before Sinterklaas, so let’s go.

I had to work today, again! Yeah, life ain’t fair, some say. I know, but on the other hand, life’s what you make it. I would very much like to have some time off to spend it with my son. To go cycling, to climb hills, to race down de zypendaalseweg. To do stuff, to imagine we’re both kids having fun cause school’s out. Ahhhhhh, if only there could be a time like this.

As a nine year old kid you often think your dad’s a hero. The strong masculin man that can get things done with a blink of his eyes. The person with his beautiful wife that’s called your mum. A bit of worship towards pappi is almost normal for every little boy. I know, I was that boy once but now I’m the dad. And my thoughts on who’s the real hero have renewed. Sam rocks, this kid is the best!

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When I was a kid my dad taught me how to play biljart. Pretty cool you might think if not for the fact the old folks were already always hanging in the bar. Not so for the 9 year old kid Kimmie and I are raising. Yesterday was St. Icarusday, we took him to Germany by bike (the +65 km Fuccit ride), we took him to the court as usual (for polo and BBQ day) and he told us that he learned some valuable lessons: how to cycle along even when you’re in pain, skidding on your dad’s bike is pretty easy and trackstanding is not that hard when you practise. Fixed gear riding can be so superawesome! I gotta build me one badassride for the “kleine vedette”.