In three weeks time, the summer holidays will be upon us. Looking at the current weather conditions, I am beginning to panic at the thought of three small children, a border terrorist and me in a confined space for 6 weeks, or 45 days to be precise.
We have had eleven months to plan for it, but as usual with a few weeks to go, my husband and I finally sit down, stare at pages of blank spaces in the diary and try and decide how to fill them. My mother and mother-in-law both often remark, “It is good for children to be bored and entertain themselves.” This is all very well, but I remember that feeling of boredom in the summer holidays, with limited television, and a dog walk being my mother’s answer to it all. I am also a little concerned about my own sanity dealing with three starlings twittering, “I’m bored. What can we do?” for 45 days.
As we run through the holiday options, albeit a touch late when no doubt most things have been booked for months, we endeavour to find the perfect summer holiday solution. Hotel is one option but is ruled out partly due to our 18-month-old’s regular high pitch attention-seeking screeches - not something we want to inflict upon other fellow holiday makers. A Villa in Europe, where our children can be free to launch into tantrums or screech to their hearts content. However, the thought of my husband being on constant life guard duty to three non-swimmers and me feeding the washing machine with sweaty beach towels, whilst trying to prepare meals in someone else’s kitchen, don’t exactly appeal. A Family Resort, full of other people’s children all screaming in a shared swimming pool, surrounded by rows of parents reclined on sun loungers all desperately hoping their children will make friends so that they can enjoy a couple of pages of John Grisham or Jilly Cooper undisturbed. However, the last time we tried this it was so hot that our two year old spent the week playing with his dinky cars inside the public loos as eveywhere was too hot. My husband’s final suggestion was camping which I instantly vetoed – at least for this year - on the grounds of nappies.
After much debate, we have settled on spending a week in Wales with friends who have children of similar ages, and the other 38 days at home in Dorset. We plan to fill the garden with obscene amounts of plastic play equipment and throw in the odd treat in the form of a walk across the fields to the village shop to buy a Mini Milk, come rain or shine. Any other suggestions though for the school holidays would be gratefully recieved.
