Round and Round

Reilly calls the game “round and round.” To play the game, you run around in circles in the living room until you’re dizzy. The only problem is that Reilly doesn’t get dizzy. The kid does 3, 4, 5, 6 laps and is still circling when daddy hits the floor.

You should also make some sort of noise while playing “round and round.” Unsurprisingly, girlish screams seem to be the choice of my two-year-old. Unfortunate for anyone standing nearby, I try to mimic her.

I play the “round and round” game because I am my daughter’s father, and with that responsibility comes the requirement of playing games that one might find annoying. Or sickening.

I’ve never liked anything that spins me around. One of the most horrifying events of my childhood was a ride on the teacups at Disney World. After only two rotations, I began to feel nauseous. A hundred or so rotations later, I was soaked in sweat and green.

My weak stomach is also a problem when it comes to seasickness. I am the last guy you want to invite on a boat. I’m fine inshore, but once we get a mile out and the horizon disappears and the waves pick up, it’s like being back on the teacups again. Bring me on you next fishing trip, and you won’t need any chum.

When I play the “round and round” game, and stop after the second or third lap around the living room, Reilly will say, “Daddy! Round and round!” Like, come on, man, let’s go! We’re playin’ here, dad. And so I suck it up and keep on running, happy to be playing with Reilly, happier that yet another of my weak genes was not inherited by my daughter.