Nothing says Abu Dhabi quite like the rolling red desert. So when my family recently visited for a lovely (but all too short) trip, my husband and I decided to sign up for a desert safari. Truthfully, I can’t say I was all too eager to head back out onto the winding dunes.

The very first time I piled into a giant jeep to test out the sands, somehow I was elected caregiver of an adorable five-year-old in our group since his mum opted out due to her motion sickness. Sandwiched between my husband and me, the minute the SUV took off, riding up crests of waves and down others, the boy buried his head into my lap with a whimper. I couldn’t do much to help him either, because; let’s face it – I was right there with him.

I wrapped an arm around him, whilst the other held on tightly to a grab handle, as we danced along edges of waves. My stomach went up and down about as many times as the car did but I did manage to keep it together. The poor boy however did not, and after the ride was over, he stumbled outside, blinking in the bright sunlight and threw up all over the parking lot.

So after an experience like that, I wasn’t too eager to hop back in the saddle and test out the dunes with my how do I say, rather ‘delicate’ parents. Let’s face it; they’re not as young as they used to be. I told them it would be bumpy, rough and was not the kind of thing older people got up to.

However my husband was insistent and my parents actually acted like they were a little bit offended at my estimations of their capabilities. And so off we went. After explicitly telling our driver to take it easy we hit the sands – hard. The driver gunned the accelerator as we raced up the slopes.

My parents however loved it, giggling as our stomachs churned and pointing to the waves of red mist streaming onto the windows as sand flew from the tyres. We bounced along the hills, one after the other. Ironically enough, after all that tough talk, the only person who needed a bit of a break – and sippy juice – was me.

So much for youth.