This weekend my husband hung a tire swing in the backyard for the boys. It is a huge hit. Good simple fun. As soon as it was ready, the boys clambered on and swung for hours.
Watching them swing brought back many memories for me. I seem to remember a tire swing in my childhood, but can't quite place where or when. Was it in our backyard? Not sure. But I know I did some tire swinging in my time.
And I also remembered that I spent some time suffering from motion sickness after said swinging.
I was reminded of this because Helios, my youngest, came inside after a long spell of tire spinning, nauseous, green-faced and woozy.
I warned him. Don't spin, I said.
But he spun. Which is to say Leonardo, my eldest, spun him.
Helios slept for two hours to recover.
This reminded me of so many turns on the teacups, the merry-go-round, the Scrambler, the curvy Smoky Mountain roads that ended in retching for me.
Motion sickness is a curse.
I have been told it gets worse with age. I believe it.
I participated in a yoga class the day after the tire swing arrived. After several repetitions of Sun Salutation, I felt queasy. I made it through the class but afterwards I was full on nauseous. I am a yoga wimp. No more Sun Salutation for me.
But with his motion sickness abated, Helios was back on the tire swing right after his recovery nap.
Only this time, he laid out some parameters: no spinning.