Well, we’re back from our little Dutch getaway.

A few months ago when we were talking about the holidays, we were trying to decide if it was worth going abroad. It’s stupidly hot and extremely expensive so we were leaning against it, but then a thought popped into my head about some old friends of ours who moved to the Netherlands. A quick message to check they would in fact be there and some Eurostar tickets were booked.

Obviously, I have spent three days trying to make some sort of itinerary that would keep everyone happy, researching places to stay: close to our friends, separate bedrooms (remember the hotel night), but no stairs or high balconies. I found some activities that I thought River could enjoy and emailed ahead to check access arrangements. Everyone was very nice and helpful.

I packed for the family, two backpacks with snacks aplenty, booked a 5.30am taxi and we were ready to go.

The journey to the Eurostar, although early, was pretty uneventful and because River was so dazed he coped very well in the queue. I’d thought myself pretty clever booking the Eurostar as we wouldn’t have the problem of no Wi-Fi, so no meltdowns.

This lulled me into a false sense of security so I didn’t pre-download any shows.

My first mistake.

We boarded the train and I’d managed to get Eurostar Premium on special offer, so we had more space and fewer people to bother. I’m sure the other people who paid extra loved us being there…

We settled, I brought out his iPad and yep, the Wi-Fi didn’t work.

We managed to settle him for a few minutes while I briefly involved myself in an argument with another passenger about his annoyance that the train manager did not instinctively know he was gluten free. You have to pre-book special diets, everyone knows that! Kike stared at me, wondering why I was annoying other passengers.

I honestly don’t know why I said anything, I think I was just projecting my feelings of anger that some people just assume that everyone will make accommodations for them without them having to do any preparation whatsoever. (You can pick up on my stress levels)

The lack of Wi-Fi had its usual effect and there was a lot of screaming and soothing. It went from complete joy, with accompanying loud narrative, playing Roblox to complete distress. These are the things I find the most tiring because I never know which one it’ll be and both are very loud.

Eventually we arrived in Rotterdam and navigated our way onto another train because we were actually staying in The Hague.

Welcome to The Hague

Always fun pulling two suitcases whilst making sure two children don’t get killed by cars, buses, trams and the new fun one, fast cycle lanes. The Dutch will not stop.

We found our flat but obviously I hadn’t factored in check-in time and we were an hour and a half early. With no choice, we continued with our bags to the local high street and found a pub, our comfort zone.

We headed into a dark room with two older men and what Summer described as a dead dog.

It soon became clear that local pubs were perhaps not for families or outsiders, so we quickly retreated and found a café.

After a quick reset and some expensive toasties, plus Summer’s introduction to ginger in a drink, not a fan. We walked back and entered our flat.

It was really nice. Like, really nice.

It was a proper ‘grown-up’ flat as we like to say. Spacious, clean, with lots of sharp edges and things my two could easily break. Summer and River loved running around and happily settled into their room. We’d brought River’s blanket, sensory lights and new favourite plushies and he seemed happy.

The size of the TV brought the most happiness, so much so that he didn’t want to leave.

Eventually we persuaded him and headed off to meet our friends. It was a lovely reunion. Since last seeing them they now have two children and it was amazing getting to know them as well.

The icing on the cake was that they had built an Irish pub in their back garden. It was very impressive, complete with genuine Irish pub decor, music and a large collection of whiskey.

The evening was chilled and we didn’t stay late because we needed to head to the supermarket for supplies. I know it’s more convenient in a lot of ways to be able to cook your own food, especially for River, but I always feel a bit cheated cooking and cleaning when I’m supposed to be on holiday.

Nevertheless, I do enjoy a foreign supermarket.

We got the usual, plus a couple of traditional Dutch items, and headed home for an early night because we had an early booking to…

Legoland… Again

Yep. We went back.

It’s nothing like the one in England. It’s more of a Lego experience in a giant basement, with different areas challenging you to build things, a small train ride and a mini pirate soft play.

River did not know what to do with himself. He just ran round and round. He doesn’t have any actual interest in building with Lego so that wasn’t going to hold his attention, although there was an impressive collection of buildings you could interact with and he especially enjoyed watching the roller coaster, which was quite hypnotic.

Summer was in her element, although she also found it tricky to settle on one thing, choosing to move frequently from place to place.

Kike and I had no choice but to split up. There was no way we were keeping them together.

I took River to the little 4D cinema which he seemed to enjoy, our cinema trips are paying off. After an hour though he was tired, so we sat down and he ate and had some screen time while Summer had longer to explore.

I hate that we sometimes have to drag her away from things when he’s had enough, so it was perfectly fine for him to zone out for a while so she could enjoy it as well.

I even managed to persuade (bribe) him to sit through the film again with Summer, although he refused to put on his glasses this time. It can’t have been that much fun watching a blurry screen but who am I to argue?

Cocktails, Trampolines and One Croc

We left and went to explore the beach.

It was wonderful.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I love being by the water. We found a little restaurant on the beach and attempted to sit outside but the chairs were wet from the earlier rain. I tried to make it work but eventually gave in and suggested we actually sit inside.

Turned out to be a very good decision as five minutes later there was a massive rainstorm.

It was quite cosy being inside with hot food, watching the rain thunder against the glass surrounding us. I did start to worry about the rest of the day as it was loosely written on the itinerary as ‘beach day’.

Luckily it cleared up and we walked along the boardwalk, went on the merry-go-round and eventually settled at a beach bar complete with a trampoline.

This was amazing.

The sun was out and the kids were happy bouncing. River was happy as long as no part of his body touched the sand (he’s my son). Kike and I decided to have a cocktail, very unlike us, and actually enjoyed a calm part of the holiday.

When it was time to go we headed to the bus stop.

Number 23.

We explained this to River and he excitedly waited for the number 23. It appeared on the display that it was coming but, at the last second, the number 9 snuck in front.

We obviously did not need the number 9 so we weren’t getting on it.

This did not compute for River.

Absolute meltdown.

“MY MORE TRAIN, MY MORE TRAIN!”

I tried to explain while holding him as he thrashed. He threw himself to the floor inconsolable just as the number 23 arrived. Kike spotted that he was lying right next to some glass and grabbed him while Summer and I ran to the front to make sure the bus didn’t leave without us.

Kike carried him kicking and screaming onto the bus where he continued screaming for another three stops.

It was then we realised he was wearing one Croc.

The crying began again but this time no longer for the bus. He’d lost one of his favourite Crocs.

The calmness of the cocktail had well and truly vanished, replaced with rocking and soothing as we took turns carrying our Crocless child back to the flat. We did not mention the Crocs again that evening and eventually managed to calm him enough to go to bed.

Then Kike started to say he didn’t feel very well.

This was not information I wanted to hear.

Just Me and the Kids

The next morning the rain was back and Kike didn’t look too good, so I decided to push our plans back until lunchtime to give everyone a bit more rest.

As the morning came to an end and the sunshine came out, I had a decision to make. I’d originally planned to just take Summer to the model village but then what would River do? He’d already had a morning of YouTube.

Kike was struggling to get dressed so I asked him if he was actually able to parent if he came out. I stressed that I wasn’t trying to be mean but I could not have an extra person to look after at an unknown tourist attraction.

He admitted he wasn’t well enough to look after either child.

So he went back to bed.

I packed my bag, took a deep breath and headed off with both children. I was very anxious.

Luckily, Madurodam was amazing.

It wasn’t just a model village, which I’d worried wasn’t going to hold River’s attention. There were little rides and activities everywhere.

He managed small queues with lots of snacks and distractions, so we could go on a plane simulation ride flying over different sights of the Netherlands. There was a disco part and all three of us had a little dance. We called it our Eurovision flight.

We found the play area but there was one small problem.

Sand.

River refused to put his foot on it so I had to carry him between the different equipment until luckily both children disappeared into a huge climbing boat.

There were three visible exits which made me slightly nervous, but I offered to pay Summer to keep an eye on him.

For ten minutes all was fine.

Then Summer appeared.

“I need the toilet.”

“Where is River?”

“I don’t know, I need the toilet.”

Frantic dash around the boat and he was happily playing.

This is the problem being on your own. Summer has every right to need the toilet and she’s still young enough to want me to go with her, but I also can’t leave River inside a giant climbing boat.

Emergency gummies got him out but there was no way he was going back in afterwards, so we continued to a water-play area which was very successful.

We managed another little ride about the history of windmills. It was very sweet, although sadly there was a storm and the windmills burnt down.

There was a rainbow afterwards and then they showed the wind turbines, but the damage had been done.

“THE WINDMILLS WERE ON FIRE! THEY BURNED! I’M SO SAD!”

Loud sobs continued for the rest of the ride and another ten minutes afterwards. He really does have high emotions.

After a quick sit down we continued exploring, finding new things all the time, including an amazing indoor interactive play area featuring famous Dutch artists and finishing with a slide into a ball pit designed like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

I managed three hours until it was clear River was very tired and his mood was about to change.

He cried as we left and promptly fell asleep in the cab.

But we’d done it. Three hours, the three of us, somewhere completely new.

We met Kike and our friends at the park for a quick play before heading back for dinner, garden play and obviously another drink in the Irish pub.

One Thing for Me

The last day was already here.

Another thing I dislike about having a flat is the clean-up. Threatened with a €100 fine if we left anything in the fridge, dishwasher or didn’t take the bins out meant Kike and I spent the last couple of hours cooking the remaining food, cleaning, finding the bin storage and packing.

Fun!

We checked out and ordered an Uber to our friends’ house. It was at this exact point River needed the toilet.

Of course he did.

We no longer had a key and there was no bathroom nearby.

“Can you hold it?”

“NO, I NEED TO GO.”

I looked at Kike pleadingly to find a solution.

He shrugged.

I was annoyed.

I grabbed River, took him to the car park and found a drain where he managed his first standing-up wee.

I was actually very proud of him.

Uber arrived and we were off.

I had decided that I wanted to do one thing for myself and so, of course, I chose a Nazi prison.

Bit of light-hearted tourism to end the holiday.

I was more than happy to go on my own but Summer pleaded to come and I do like her to learn about history, so off we went.

It wasn’t quite the museum she was expecting.

It’s not Wonderlab.

The Oranjehotel is incredibly well set up and they’ve installed a section for 8–14-year-olds to help explain a very upsetting subject. You enter a cell, close the door and it goes dark before a video tells you the story of one of the people imprisoned there.

There were various stories from young people, activists and writers talking about their experiences inside the jail.

Summer started to become anxious so I suggested a break. We had a drink and a snack and I asked if she was alright.

“Can the people in the prison get to us?”

“This is a museum sweetheart, there are no prisoners here.”

“No, that prison. I can see the barbed wire.”

Ah.

The international one. The guide had proudly pointed it out to us as we arrived and told us of some of the current famous inmates including the ex-president of The Philippines

I assured her that no one was coming and she was perfectly safe and she visibly relaxed.

We continued for another hour until she became upset again and told me she just didn’t like it there. I checked where we were and we were, in fact, on the Death Row corridor leading to the door where prisoners were taken outside and shot.

Fair enough.

I felt she’d learnt enough and was proud of her for sticking with it.

There was just enough time for one final play in yet another playground with our friends before it was time for the Eurostar home.

One Final Surprise

River was exhausted so I assumed he’d be asleep before we left the station.

Nope.

He was awake for the entire four hours. Chatting, playing, jumping.

Kike took him to the bathroom about twenty minutes before we arrived back in London and returned looking very flustered.

“He’s been sick.”

“What? Where?”

“I was sick Mummy. My tummy hurts.”

“You need to go and look,” Kike quickly added.

I wondered why I needed to go and look but went anyway.

He had indeed been sick.

Very sick.

And he had not made it to the toilet.

There was vomit everywhere.

As I tried not to breathe it in, I was figuring out how I was going to clean it when another passenger had already alerted the train manager. I apologised profusely. He locked the bathroom and waved me away.

The smell lingered.

Summer then worked out that the vomit was on River’s backup Crocs.

We arrived in London.

There was absolutely no debate. Straight into a taxi and get everyone home.

River vomited more through the night and that was the rather spectacular end to our Dutch adventure.

So, Was It Worth It?

When we were deciding what to do this summer, we genuinely weren’t sure whether going abroad was worth it. Travelling with River takes a lot of planning and preparation and, as this post probably demonstrates, even then things don’t necessarily go to plan.

But I’m very glad we went.

It was so lovely to see our friends again and finally meet their children. We had a complete change of scenery, spent time on the beach, explored somewhere new and somehow managed to fit in Lego, Dutch windmills, water play, an Irish pub in a garden, a Nazi prison and one missing Croc.

There were hard bits, obviously, but those aren’t the things that define the trip for me. River managed trains, buses, a new flat, queues, rides and a completely different routine. Summer got to enjoy things she loved too and I particularly enjoyed having that time alone with her at the museum. Even when Kike was ill and our plans had to change, I took both children out on my own and we had a genuinely good afternoon.

There were also those little bits that actually felt like a holiday. Sitting inside watching the rain over the beach, having a cocktail while the children bounced on a trampoline, spending evenings catching up with old friends and just being somewhere different for a few days.

Summer has already announced that she wants to go back next year. Three nights apparently wasn’t sufficient.

She’d like two weeks.

I’m not quite ready to commit to that.

But would I go back?

Absolutely.