Dear fellow sub-one-metre-humans, pizza-appreciators and members of the anti-hair-accessory movement,
It may have escaped your attention that for the past week, I have been on ‘holiday’ with Mummy in a place called ‘Tenner-reef’. As a now seasoned traveller, I have been carefully working on and compiling a list of helpful hints and tips for toddler travel (in between bath-time and farting) that even the most novice young holiday-er can use to their advantage:
- Sleep during the car journey to the airport. You’re going to need your strength for f@*king up everyone’s flight.
- The aeroplane provides the perfect environment for your pre-prepared marathon version of wheels on the bus. Oil up your vocal chords with some post-customs toddler milk and sing the shit out of a personal concert for the terrified teenage boy in the seat behind you. Boom.
- Demand crisps and flirt with the air stewardess… then toss her aside like an empty tube of Pringles the second you leave the plane… she’s no use to you now.
- Only the weak actually ‘sit down’ on buses.
- Discard the buggy, your preferred method of travel for the next week is ‘Trunki’. And you do mean EVERYWHERE.
- Remember you’re using the ‘holiday stroller’ now not the sturdy home buggy. Wait until they’ve loaded the back up like a pack horse and then stand up. Keep repeating until they learn they’re just gonna have to CARRY THEIR OWN SHIT. Or buy you another ice cream. (I call this move #buggybuckaroo)
- The ‘Swimming Pond’ on holiday is fairly similar to your paddling pool at home… Except with better toys and without its own green skin and bio-diverse aquatic ecosystem.
- Be sure to freak the f@*k out when your fingers go wrinkly after a three hour pool session. This means the underwater swimming pond goblins are stealing your skin…
- Also. Swim nappies are a trick.
- Mummy is mistaken. You CAN put your own sun-lotion on. Idiot.
- And if she thinks your wearing a hat today she better keep the Cornettos coming thick and fast.
- There can never be too much melon, chips or mel-ips. (My own melon/chips hybrid. I’d share the recipe but it’s a secret and I’m getting that shit patented.)
- Herbs count as vegetables. If a pizza turns up with oregano decoratively sprinkled on top insist this is removed immediately. Then take a mouthful. Spit it out in disgust. Fart. And demand an ice cream.
- At day crèche, relax… have fun… take in the culture… feast on some European play-doh… Until you see Mummy returning. At which point pull out an ‘Angry Crab’ impenetrable backwards yoga tantrum move and scream until she feels truly guilty about her two hours of vertical sunbed action. What a selfish whore. Later on, take a protest shit on the balcony.
- While you’re all stuck sleeping in the same bedroom, this is the perfect time to see how many times you can shout Mummy’s name before she cries and eventually passes out through tears of exhaustion. Bless.
- If you can still stand. You can still dance. Ensure Mummy is watching you at all times. If she glances away at any time make a break for the stage whilst taking out a few unsuspecting five year olds en-route.
- Flirt outrageously with all Spanish waiters and hotel staff. They give you lollies. Special European lollies with magical powers… Not that sugar-free crap Mummy tries to palm you off with… Use this new found energy to run for the Swimming Pond. If you make it in, mark the area with a territorial floater. No-one will be stealing your bucket and inflatable crocodile now will they…
- With practice, you’ll be impressed the speeds you can get up whilst running in flip-flops.
- For this week, and this week alone, you’ll be truly amazed the sort of behaviour that will be rewarded with an ice-cream if it means Mummy can get another gin in.
- And finally. YOU decide how much time is too much naked playground time. Fact.