Is bringing small children on a foreign holiday a waste of time, effort and money?

I heard someone recently say that bringing small children on a foreign holiday was a waste of time, effort and money because they won’t remember it and — oh my! — there is a lot of misery to unpack there in that short sentiment.

First of all, you don’t do things with your kids just because they will remember it. My one-year-old’s favourite thing to do at the moment is to catch a soft ball with a bell in it that jingles when she shakes it. She will never remember how much she loved this as a one-year-old but that doesn’t stop me throwing it to her over and over and over again, watching her squeal with happiness each time and witnessing her sheer joy in the moment.

Second of all — of course they will remember it!

I took so many photos on our recent holiday and I plan to shove the photobook into their faces every day for years to come, saying “Look! Remember we were happy?” so that eventually their actual memories become merged with the filtered highlights memorialised in the photobook and they are convinced that they do remember the holiday they took when they were aged only one and two years old. They will remember their childhoods in the soft tones of the Instagram Paris filter the same way that I picture my parents’ childhoods in black and white.

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My favourite moment of this trip was the four of us palling about in the pool, with the toddler enthusiastically trying to participate in the aqua aerobics class. It was all at once hilarious and ordinary and special

Third, holidays are FUN! Even for small kids. Going to the airport is exciting, getting on a plane is exciting. Having cornflakes for breakfast, ice cream for lunch followed by chips and more ice cream for dinner? It’s a toddler’s dream. They have more time with their parents than they do at home and their parents are more relaxed because they’re having a break from work and a break from the laundry and a break from preparing breakfast, lunch and dinner and cleaning up after breakfast and lunch and dinner and all the miscellaneous snacks in between.

Finally, not everything is for the kids! What about me? I want a holiday. I want a change of scenery. I want to feel sun on my bones and enjoy a short break from the laundry and preparing breakfast, lunch and dinner and cleaning up after breakfast, lunch and dinner and all the miscellaneous snacks in between.

Though the aim was to escape the daily grind, we still settled into a routine, albeit a palatable one:

• Get up at 8.
• Breakfast buffet at half 8.
• Back to the room at half 9 to get ready for the pool (with the toddler) or nap (with the baby).
• 10am: Morning swim/nap.
• Noon: Bribe (or drag, kicking and screaming) the toddler out of the pool.
• 1pm: Drop the toddler to the kids’ club while mammy, daddy and baby ventured out for lunch.
• 3pm: Siesta.
• 4pm: Collect the toddler for an afternoon swim before dinner at 6pm and bed at 8pm.

It was bliss.

The kids’ club was a fine addition to the schedule. The toddler loved going and we loved her being there. It had been a gamble because we weren’t sure if she’d like it and we weren’t sure if she’d get in. It was for three years and up, you see, but with “the two-year-old” actually being a “two-and-ten-month-old”, we chanced our arms. The day before she first went, I tested her by asking her her age. She responded “L” and skipped off. I was pretty happy she at least didn’t say “two”.

The next day we brought her along and there was a tense moment as the kids’ club staff greeted her with a most friendly: “Hello! And how old are you? Are you three?”

We held our breath. A bead of sweat trickled down my husband’s face. And then the toddler (too young or too stupid to know her own age) said “Yes”. We breathed a sigh of relief and heading off said “Good luck”. “Thank you”, the toddler turned to reply. The staff raised their heads in suspicion but it was too late — we’d already made our great escape.

Whether or not the kids make memories, they are my memories too. My favourite moment of this trip was the four of us palling about in the pool, with the toddler enthusiastically trying to participate in the aqua aerobics class. It was all at once hilarious and ordinary and special.

It’s the little things that count but sometimes everyone has more time to notice and appreciate them on holidays. One evening after dinner, the toddler ran into the middle of an empty dance floor and immediately started dancing. A disco light flashed overhead, and she unselfconsciously shrieked: “Mammy! Daddy! Dance with me!”

I know the years that she will be overjoyed to share an empty dance floor with us are short, so I’ll cherish them while they’re here.