How (not) to have a relaxing holiday with small children
Posted Friday 12th April 2013 By Ericka Waller
I never thought I would say this, but we just got back from a RELAXING holiday with the children. Ok, so it was only for two days, and in sub-zero temperatures. But still. I don’t remember shouting once. Well, once the five-hour car trip was over (five hours with three children who did not all want to watch the same film on the portable DVD player). (The portable DVD player which switched itself off every-time we turned right or went over a bump.)
The farm we were staying on was lovely. And it had a nice big fence round it so, like sheep, the children could not escape. And all the trying to escape wore them out anyway (not enough to actually sleep of course).
We had a tour of the farm. Thing-three fell in love with a tiny dog called Dora. She kept bending down to kiss it. (There was that moment towards the end where she tried to mount it, and my wrong-footed attempt to get her off, which resulted in me treading on the dog’s foot, and the dog thinking it was Thing-three, so turned and barked at her, which broke Thing-three’s heart as she really thought they had bonded). So sweet.
We met Alan-the-calf who had been born in the night. She was called Alan as she had been born in the middle of Alan’s leaving party. The staff were worried the mooing had kept us up. We thought the mooing was Thing-two so just ignored it anyway.
Thing-one was very keen to stroke Alan. Alan’s mum was not so keen. Thing-two was not keen on any of the animals at all and kept demanding “Tea, Mr Tumble, go hooooome”. Luckily, the freezing arctic winds blew the words from her mouth and scattered them over the rugged Welsh landscape, well out of earshot.
Thing-one collected the chicken eggs. She fell in A LOT of chicken-poo but that’s all part of the fun isn’t it? The husband swotted up on chickens before the tour so he would know all the answers when the farmer asked “Do you know which chicken this egg came from?” or “Does anyone know how old this breed of chicken is?”
The farmer was a bit annoyed with the husband stealing his chicken-thunder so made him carry the pig feed. The pigs chased the husband. He dropped the feed and ran like a big girl. The farmer felt his sense of importance and manliness were suitably restored.
We are now buying chickens to restore the husband’s sense of importance and manliness.
Thing-three briefly went missing, but was soon found chasing lambs round. (She was determined to ride one of the animals).
Thing-two sat in the car with the heating on watching Mr Tumble on the portable DVD player, signing to herself.
All in all they behaved so well we decided to stop at Peppa Pig World on the way home. Luckily, it took so long to get there, and was so ridiculously cold, that it was almost empty (and due to close any moment).
Thing-one got over her fear of ‘big-heads’ just in time to meet Suzy-sheep. We had to take her away soon after as Thing-two kept trying to climb inside the costume. Thing-three just stared, quietly working out the best way to climb on Suzy’s back, her biggest challenge yet.
We had a boat ride, and a car-ride and a brief, ill-fated trip to the gift shop before hitting the muddly puddles. (They had been switched off due to the cold weather, but Thing-two crawled under the fence and turned them on).
Things One and Three loved the muddly puddles. Of course, in turning them on, Thing-two got herself soaking wet and so wanted to go back to the car.
Keeping them awake on the long journey home so they would sleep that night was a bit of a challenge. Thank god for water pistols!
But we did it. We went. We saw. We survived. I’m even thinking of booking again for next year.
*I could not recommend Sutton Mawr the farm more by the way.
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