Month: October 2005

I heard this somewhere and I don’t really understand. Can anyone clear it up for me?

Roger……Roger, get off my motorcycle.

It’s one of those famous last words that a parent will often say to a child just has he/she embarks on a sick inducing activity. So I was at Nick’s soccer game yesterday (they won 1-0), and contrary to what most people do at their child’s soccer game (watch the game), we always have to watch Ashlee play on the playground the whole time. It just so happens that all the playgrounds at the parks Nick’s games are at are at least 100 yards or more away from the soccer fields.

As I was “supervising” Ashlee, she finally hopped on the merry-go-round. So I start spinning her. At first she sat near the edge so she could get the full g-force affect. I couldn’t really push her as fast as possible because it would get to a point where Ashlee would tell me to stop pushing. That was fun and all for about 8 minutes. Then Ashlee decided it was time to get down to business.

At this point she was now the only one on the merry-go-round. So she moves to the exact middle of the contraption and gave her order, “Push now, Dad!” So I proceeded to push. Ashlee yelled, “Faster, faster!” So I pushed faster. “Faster, faster!” I push faster.

“Faster, Dad!”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Faster, faster, Dad!”

“OK.”

I pushed faster and then just let the thing spin. After a time that I arbitraily deemed “safe”, I stopped the merry-go-round and decided to push it this time in the opposite direction. I was holding on to the theory that this would somehow delay the sick inducing effects. We repeated the whole dialog as above.

It was while I was waiting for the merry-go-round to slow down the second time that I realized Ashlee was on one of those “magic” merry-go-rounds. You know, the kind you always wished you were on when you were a kid. The kind that actually doesn’t slow down unless acted upon by an outside force. Ashlee was currently riding one of these.

We repeated the whole thing again, and again, and again, changing directions each time. I kept asking her, “Are you OK?” She always replied with a vigorous, “Yes.” She even got to the point where she would swing her head around as she twirled, often banging it on the metal handles to obvioulsy no affect. Finally, after maybe 15-20 minutes of 60-75rpm per minute, I figured we’d better get back to Nick’s game before it ends as we had brought the post-game treats for the team.

I slowed the merry-go-round down one last time. Ashlee looked fine, until we came to a complete stop. She got that blank stare look on her face. You know the look, the, “I think about about to be sick,” look. I wonder why. She slowly stood up and climbed into my arms. She wrapped her arms around me and she wouldn’t let me put her down and she wasn’t speaking at all. This was unusual as she normally wants to run free when we’re out at the park. So I had to carry her the 150 yards to the soccer field.

We got back to the game (it was the start of the 4th quarter). I sat down in our chair and Ashlee cuddled up in my arms and didn’t move the rest of the time. I asked, “All you all right?” and she’d feebly answer, “Yes,” in the tiniest of voices.

I asked, “Do you fill sick?”

Again in her still small voice, “Yes, I’m dizzy.”

I had to carry her back the 150 yards to the car along with the chair, Nick’s soccer bag, and my training kit I had brought along. I hate to say, “I told you so…”