My sweet husband isn’t the biggest fan of amusement park rides. There are many he can handle (that’s my caveat to ensure that he isn’t made out to be a wimp in this post). The rides that spin or spin while going up and down: those are the rides that would classified as Henry’s Least Favorite Rides. So much so that on one of our early dates, he got nauseous just sitting on a bench and watching a spinning ride.
Because I know this about the man who provides so well for his family, I have made an effort when the kids go through the “spinning”phase, to ensure they don’t spin around him. Seriously. I’ve seen him leave the room because he didn’t want to stop their fun, but their fun spinning was NO FUN at all for dad. He’s gotten better the last two kids, but there’s still an concern.
All of the above makes me wonder if my “don’t spin too much in front of daddy” warnings prompted the following, or if it just happened because of little G’s perspective of the world (which is definitely…uh…different).
He was just spinning in the kitchen while I worked on the dishes. To make this clear, I was not the person spinning. The 3- year-old boy was the spinner: spin spin spin spin spin around and around and around and around. Stop.
“Mom?”
“Yes, G.”
“Are you dizzy?”
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