Ugh, it’s that time again. Blimmin blimmin blimmin summer holiday planning. I feel as though I’ve only just got over last year’s jaunt and yet we are already way behind everyone we know on sorting out joyful summer romps for the whole family.
As if.
What on earth do you do with an age range of 20 to 9? What I feel like doing is giving them all a tent and a blank cheque and just telling them to get on with it. Yes, the tents would be pitched in four different fields, probably on four different continents, but everyone would be reasonably happy. Instead we all have to pretend to love each other and huddle up somewhere for two bumpy weeks.
Except we don’t. That’s not feasible any more. The 20 and 18-year-olds will be off doing their own thing, and I will miss them horribly.
Some parents I know are still tempting their older offspring into the virtual tents of their summer holidays, by the underhand means of dangling fantastic destinations under the young adults’ noses. I’ve heard Cuba mentioned. And Venezuela. But really? Is it going to work when they get there? If their offspring are anything like mine (or anything like I was at that age) they have firmly morphed now into nocturnal creatures who are no good for any kind of sight seeing or even the most basic interaction with parents. All they are capable of, during daylight hours, is lying paralysed on sunloungers. Of course it’s a different story when night falls.
I’d be quite happy myself with sun lounger paralysis – though I’d have to visit the odd art gallery, I can’t help it – but that is not going to work with a 9 year old. Oh, what to do, what to do. Of course I know very well the kind of active hols that work beautifully with 9 year olds. I’m just not much interested in doing them, all over again.
Maybe it’s just the lingering cold of winter killing my holiday mojo, but I’m not feeling holidaytastic right now. If you can suggest brilliant destinations for nine year olds and lazy bored art gallery enthusiasts, then I NEED to hear from you.
