To prepare for the noise and chaos of Hanoi now just 42 days away, I spent last week with my shortest grandchildren, instead of training on my bike. As a result, Jenny and I are both exhausted and badly need a holiday in Vietnam to recover.
Who would’ve thunk short kids were more exhausting than bicycles.
Like any multistage marathon endurance event, Day One, Two and Three with the short people were easy. Colt taught me how to moon walk on our dog walks, Teagan taught me how to skip. Turns out both are bad teachers.
We debated the merits of favourite movies, K-Pop Demon Hunters vs Schindler’s List, and also favourite colours, green for Colt and purple, red and yellow for Teagan vs just beige for me. We even debated the Springboks vs the All Blacks. Colt likes Springboks best because they’re green and they’ve got sharp horns, while All Blacks are black and look like chickens.
Me and Colt also rode bikes together, which aged me considerably. Colt employs a Hail Mary approach to descending, and knows nothing about gravity, and could care even less if he did. Plus, his brakes didn’t work anyway, front or back. At the bottom of the first hill, I rushed his bike to Banket town for emergency repairs, and subjected him to stern safety lectures into town and all the way home.
Turns out the brakes and the lectures were water off a duck’s back. Colt much prefers Fred Flintstone braking with his boots, because it’s way cool and he gets to leave big skid marks behind him on the road, and also in my underpants. For the rest of the week, we only rode uphills.
Even though I’d grown very fond of the theme song to K Pop Demon Hunters, especially the first verse, coincidentally the only verse that Teagan knows, my most favourite time of the day was after-lunch quiet time, which is when children had better not be seen or heard, or else. I put my extra stern look on for the or else bit, and it worked. Until I found out that Colt spent all his quiet time quietly working on the murals on the walls of his bedroom with a permanent marker.
NB the murals weren’t there previously, but because permanent is permanent, they will be there for some time to come, until I re-paint. If Colt was a Banksy, maybe my maximum heart rate wouldn’t have alarmed at 200 bpm, according to my watch, but his stick men are dreadful, and I’m surprised it didn’t spike to 250. I badly wanted to visit retribution on his bum, but I impressed me with my self control instead.
Incredibly the sun came up the next day, and birds sang, and everything was good again. Colt and I watched the rugby together, but only after debating the merits of colouring books and non-permanent markers at length. Unfortunately, the All Blacks came second, and we also debated the merits of sharp horns vs looking like a chicken, at even greater length. Turns out seven-year-olds also know nothing about being humble.
Please don’t get me wrong, grandchildren are best medicine, especially short ones, and I wish I’d cut holes in my kids condoms, BUT seven days of short grandkids non-stop and at full volume, and without a parent to give them back to is exactly why people like the Pope are celibate.
But despite the noise and chaos, I thank God every day for my grandchildren, but also thank God I’m riding my bicycle 3000 kms from Vietnam to Vic Falls. I’m riding with some of my most favourite people. Please be introduced to Alastair, Laurie and Fiona Watermeyer, and also to my wife Jenny, with Jenny obviously being my most favourite, he quickly added.
We are riding to raise money and awareness for Zimbabwe’s pensioners. Please help us help them by following the donate prompts below.
For the pensioners- https://www.gofundme.com/f/old-legs-tour-2026-vietnam-to-victoria-falls
Until my next blog, Have Fun, Do Good, Do Epic, and enjoy, even when short people go out the lines colouring in your bedroom walls – Eric Chicken Legs de Jong
* Names and images may have been changed for privacy reasons
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