The brochure‘s description of a “family-friendly hotel on the beach with luxury interconnecting rooms,” sounded perfect. It was just what we needed. My husband had very thoughtfully decided give me a break from the daily ritual of mothehood and had booked two nights away. The children were delighted with Daddy’s thoughtful idea and set about packing their bags including passports, despite the hotel being on the Dorset coast.
We arrived to find the hotel was certainly child-friendly. There were small people everywhere and what seemed to be few parents dotted around hotel sofas trying to enjoy an article or two of the newspaper. We were taken to our room which did indeed have an interconnecting room which was just large cnough to house the much talked about bunk bed. In the corner of our room was a cot for the Toddler. We were happy with our close knit room and the children were excited about their new sleeping arrangements.
As in many child-friendly hotels, there are different eating options but given our children are a litle shy, we knew the prospect of having a quiet dinner without them was out of the question. We compromised with a 7pm sitting in the dining room, with the children seated around us in true family-friendly style. After a lively meal full of bribery, to ensure they stayed in their seats, we called it a night. At 8pm, everyone was in their beds including my husband and I. The children were scared sleeping with the door shut and wanted to be able to see us and The Toddler was furious at us calling time. So, here we were - the five us huddled together in the family-friendly room. My husband and I lay there in silence, hardly daring to move, to try and encourage the children to go to sleep. When we wanted to speak to each other, we would shuffle down under the duvet and whisper. It reminded me of a school dormitory, trying not to get caught talking after lights out. Throughout the night, I constantly sat bolt upright with the slightest snuffle from one of the children. Occasionally, I would be met with The Toddler bobbing up like a meerkat, peering over the edge of his cot and letting out a loud cry. Just as I began drifting into a much needed sleep, the morning crept up on us and we were all greeted by family-friendly screams of excitement from other children in the corridor. My husband turned to me and said, “Well, at least you aren’t cooking the breakfast!”
