Tag Archive for: family travel

Why Traveling with Kids Makes Me Fat

/in ,
Please! Anything but fries!

Please! Anything but fries!

We’ve only been in London for a week at this point, but if I eat another French Fry (or “chip,” or whatever you want to call those crispy demons), you might have to roll me down the stairs to catch the Tube.

Yes, traveling with kids is wonderful for a host of reasons. How this dad eats while vacationing with those little people definitely isn’t one of them.

My first problem is the food.  Whether they’re munching on the aforementioned French Fries, chicken tenders, mozzarella sticks or tortilla chips, our little humans love consuming fried stuff. It’s the only thing they’ll devour every time. And when they’re “all done” (as R likes to say) with their dinners, the leftovers are just sitting there, staring at me, tormenting me, daring me to resist.

(I know there are some moms and dads out there who won’t let their children go near fried stuff. Powerwoman and I are not those people. The reality: We encourage healthy options whenever viable, but turn to fried stuff in a pinch because we have found that during meals in unfamiliar restaurants, the goals are to order something a) we know they like, b) we know they’ll eat, and c) we assume will arrive relatively fast.)

The second problem is my own guilt.

If you’re like me, wasted food equals wasted money. This mindset comes in handy when we’re cooking at home—I reuse everything, including turkey carcasses on holidays. On the road, however, I can’t help but assign a value to every uneaten chicken strip and half-finished side of peas. Once this happens, the only way to feel like I’m getting my money’s worth is to eat the scraps—even if I’m no longer hungry.

Case in point: One dinner this week comprised a bowl of red curry, two pieces of fish from L’s fish ‘n’ chips, and two-thirds of R’s mashed potatoes. I’m not bragging here, folks; I felt gross when all was said and done. One thing I didn’t feel was wasteful.

(In other news, I know other moms and dads may not admit it, but lots of traveling parents suffer from this affliction. Maybe as a follow-up to my reality television show in which Dads compete to see who can schlep the most stuff through an airport, I can produce a show that pits pops in a contest to see who can eat the most kids’ meal leftovers. Joey Chestnut and Juan More Bite, you have been served.)

Thankfully, at least for me, both of these poor habits usually are offset by a good run (which I try to squeeze in every day). Still, I acknowledge that they’re not the best habits to have, for me or my waistline.

How do you manage to eat healthy food (in modest portions) when you travel with your kids?

Free Fun in London, Without the Queue

/in ,
Baby's-eye view of the Greenwich Foot Tunnel.

Baby’s-eye view of the Greenwich Foot Tunnel.

Sure, we Villanos can appreciate the typical tourist stuff. But one of our favorite strategies when visiting a big city is to find the biggest crowds and head in the opposite direction.

This was our plan earlier in the week after arriving for four months in London.

Instead of spending hours upon hours in queues for attractions such as the London Eye, Buckingham Palace and the like (stuff I’m sure we’ll see at some point during our stay; preferably once the summer ends), we laced up our trainers and wandered east from the Four Seasons London at Canary Wharf onto the Isle of Dogs—and beyond.

Our first stop: Mudchute Park and Farm, a 32-acre plot of countryside, smack in the middle of East London. The place also happens to be one of the biggest city farms in Europe. And it’s free.

We knew we were someplace special immediately; as we rounded the corner of a back entrance trail, L spotted a horse grazing at the far end. Later, after feeding ourselves at the modest café (which serves surprisingly delicious food made mostly with produce grown on-site), we fed bunnies and chickens.

Then came the bigger animals. Goats. Llamas. Donkeys. And sheep.

Coming from a rural part of Sonoma County, California, these critters were nothing new for our girls. But seeing them against the backdrop of glimmering skyscrapers—now that was novel. For all of us.

As if the Mudchute experience wasn’t mind-bending enough, we left the farm and headed straight Greenwich, on the south side of the Thames. No, we didn’t take one of the many water busses that service the waterway. Instead, we walked. Under the river. In a 111-year-old tunnel.

That tunnel, formally dubbed the Greenwich Foot Tunnel, was built in 1902 to allow workers living on the south side of the river to get to work on the Isle of Dogs. Today, save for the Tube, it’s one of the easiest ways to get to Greenwich—home of the Royal Observatory, London’s only planetarium and, yep, the Prime Meridian (if you’re a geography geek like I am, this last one is a REALLY BIG DEAL).

Oh, the tunnel also is totally free.

I’m not sure what our girls enjoyed more: Listening to their own echoes as we walked the 1,215 feet across, or playing (and drenching themselves) in the shallow fountain on the Greenwich side. Either way, the traverse was a big hit, and a fantastic way to end a day of alternative sightseeing in our new home.

What are some of the most off-beat attractions you’ve encountered with the kids on recent trips?

An Open Letter to a Trusted Pram

/in ,
Our stuff (and a girl), with Old Faithful

Our stuff (and a girl), with Old Faithful

Dear Mr. Umbroller:

I might as well come out and just say it: When we received you as a gift at my wife’s first baby shower, I was not impressed. Your fraying nylon seat made you seem flimsy and cheap. Your plastic wheels made you feel disposable.

Also, you came from Wal-Mart, and for some reason, back then, my wife and I were hoity-toity about only getting baby products at Target.

You and I didn’t get off to such a great start. The first time we used you—on our first family vacation to Hawaii—I caught my pinky in your locking mechanism and (after a string of expletives) wanted to smash you against a wall. Then there was the trip to Denver, during which L, the older daughter, got her foot stuck in that plastic strap your manufacturer likes to call a footrest. (Lucky for you, she wriggled it out when she did; I had an Exacto knife ready to roll.)

There was more drama after that. During the first trip England, during which we nearly left you behind in the overhead bin (in case you’ve forced yourself to forget, the gate agent didn’t think you were “substantial” enough to warrant a gate check).

And on the third trip to Hawaii, when we wheeled you to the beach, a surging tide nearly took you out to sea.

To be fair, our tumultuous relationship has normalized a bit since R, the baby, joined the pod. She digs the way you ride close to the ground, and enjoys pushing you when you’re empty. Yes, she generally is more agreeable than her sister. But I think she just genuinely likes you.

Because of this, over the course of her 2 years on Earth, R has insisted we take you everywhere, from the mall to the farmers market to the city and on hikes. R lobbied hard to get us to bring you with us this week to London. Initially, however, she lost the battle; and her mother declared it would be better to take the fancier, studier and more practical double-pram.

Then a funny thing happened: That big-ass double-stroller didn’t fit in the truck. In a rush to get out of the house and head to the airport, we grabbed you, assuming you wouldn’t last a week.

Once again, we were wrong.

Not only did you survive the check-in line at SFO, but you survived the Heathrow Hike, too—rolling nearly 1.3 miles from our gate to the arrivals show. Since then, you’ve strutted around London proper in the rain and sun, jumping from high-speed river bus to the sidewalks in front of Parliament, the paved walks of Tower Bridge to the cobblestones of East London.

In short, Mr. Umbroller, you have been a lifesaver, and I am truly sorry for ever doubting you at all.

The truth is that you have been as much a part of our family’s travel as washable crayons and goldfish crackers. We’ve relied on you time and time again. And every one of those times, you’ve come through. At a time when many strollers retail for upward of $400 (or more), the $29.99 our friends spent on you has proven to be a stellar investment. We’ll continue to get their money’s worth, as long as you’ll allow us to do so.

Someday, when you you finally do go to that Umbroller Heaven in the sky, I vow to have you gilded and hung in our garage. In this state, you will serve as a constant reminder that ordinary can be wonderful, and that one never should judge a stroller by the name on its cover.

Sincerely,
MJV

The Gift of Family Travel

/in ,
Bon voyage cupcakes, from my 12-year-old niece.

Bon voyage cupcakes, from my 12-year-old niece.

Two cocktails into our final domestic Date Night of 2013, Powerwoman popped the question about our impending (we leave in two days) semester-long move to London.

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

At first, I didn’t know how to respond. I mean, I’ve spent the better part of the last eight months thinking about the epic family adventure we’re about to begin, but never—literally, not one time—have I stopped to consider the degree to which I am nervous about the idea of establishing a new life in a new place with two kids under the age of five.

Naturally, the query prompted me to chase my Manhattan with some shots of serious self-examination.

Yes, I am nervous about the logistics behind towncarring from Heathrow to our first stop on the adventure, the Four Seasons London at Canary Wharf (I’ve got an assignment there). And, yes, I’m nervous about getting from Canary Wharf to our new flat on the day we move in (which is Aug. 24, for those of you scoring at home).

Honestly, though, that’s it.

The remainder of my emotions would fall into categories such as EXCITED, THANKFUL, and HONORED. For me, our next adventure is nothing short of the best gift ever.

How is it a gift? For starters, we get to bond as a unit—a rarity in today’s era of school schedules and working parents and daycare. Second, we get to experience faraway countries and foreign cultures through the eyes of our daughters, for whom everything is new. Finally, we get to do it all on a temporary basis, knowing that, come Christmas time, we can return to our lives here in Wine Country and start planning the next trip.

I know there are people who think it’s senseless to travel with young kids because they likely won’t remember much of what they see and do. In my book, however, Powerwoman and I aren’t doing this so the kids remember it. We’re doing it because it simply is what we do.

(Though, of course, if they remember any of it, that’s a bonus which we gladly will accept.)

We Villanos aren’t sitters. Whatever we’re doing, we don’t stay still for long. One of the reasons Powerwoman and I work well together is because we share a sense of adventure and an indomitable need to explore. As parents we have tried to lead by example and pass along these credos to our girls.

I’ll be “nervous” if anyone in this family ever approaches life differently. Until then, I say, bring it on.

To what extent do you think kids remember family travel? To what extent does it matter?

Sex and the Family Vacation

/in ,
Balcony...or Ram Zone?

Balcony…or Designated Ram Zone?

For most of us, family vacations are so exhausting that the grown-ups are lucky to get an hour of alone time between the moment the kids fall asleep and the moment we follow suit.

Still, every now and again (and hopefully more frequently than that), some of us might want to use that solo time to, well, get it on.

Yes, people, I’m talking about having sex on a family vacation. In the same hotel rooms as your kids.

Obviously, surreptitiously engineering this sort of thing without awakening the little ones requires a certain degree of strategy. I first wrote about this issue for my family travel blog at Parenting magazine. Now, however, inspired by unsolicited input from readers and friends, I’ve decided to revisit the topic for some additional tips.

Al fresco
Hotel room balconies are great for a variety of reasons. They usually have great views. They offer a chance to mix fresh air and (quasi-) privacy. And if you’re a smoker, they present a safe haven from the law. Especially after the kids are snoozing, balconies can serve another purpose, too: They can become the Designated Ram Zone (DRZ).

As you can imagine, a little discretion with this option goes a long way. If you strip and get busy with no regard for other guests, you’re likely to trigger a security response (and, potentially, land yourself in jail).

On the flipside, so long as most of the action is covered by a blanket, and so long as it’s dark enough to obscure certain details, it doesn’t matter what (or dare I say, who) goes down.

Into the closet
Depending on your hotel room, the closet might be another good spot for a tryst.

The pros: Doors that close and (in some cases) room to spread out. The cons: Pesky safes and ironing boards, and hangers that have a knack for making a ton of noise when inadvertently knocked down in a fit of passion.

(Also, people, beware of closet doors that are dependently linked to closet lights; you can imagine how, during certain repetitive movements, these might create a strobe effect.)

Going bold
Finally, there’s the vestibule—that hallway-width part of every hotel room between the front door and the beds. Though this option is the most exposed (i.e., there’s nothing separating you from the kiddos), most hotel rooms offer enough space for you and your partner to do your thang on the floor, mostly out of sight.

My advice: If you opt for this strategy, be quick. And again, cover with a blanket. Just in case.

It’s worth noting that if you opt to get after it with offspring in the room, it’s a good idea to keep the typical sex soundtrack on low. Powerwoman would divorce me if I shared our own stories, but good friends have told me that the experience of awakening their children with moans and groans was as traumatizing for the adults as it was for the kids.

Portable sound machines are a good way to muffle most “foreign” noises (sex-related and otherwise); our kids don’t sleep in hotels without the White Noise app from TMSoft.

Of course an even better option is challenging your partner (and yourself) to be quiet. No, it’s not easy. But with the right frame of mind, it can become sort of a game, and might make the experience even more fun.

What are your secrets for mixing sex and family travel?

12 Days to London

/in ,
These flower-pickers are ready for the Big Time.

These flower-pickers are ready for the Big Time.

Twelve days. That’s all that stands between our family and an overnight plane ride from San Francisco to London, which will be our home from Aug. 21 through Christmas.

For months, the Big Move has seemed like a mirage, something that sounded great but wasn’t actually happening, a family-focused fantasy akin to my daydream of winning the Main Event at the World Series of Poker.

But it’s real, people. And it’s happening SOON.

Powerwoman and I have spent ample energy this month scratching stuff off our respective pre-trip to-do lists.

She has gotten most of the fun stuff, like buying the girls new winter clothes and researching playgrounds in our new neighborhood (it’s Maida Vale, for those of you scoring at home). I have been left with the inglorious tasks: Freezing the gym membership, temporarily suspending our cellular service, and requesting a Capital One credit card (with no foreign transaction fees) in Powerwoman’s name.

Of course we’ve also spun wheels trying to tie up loose ends here at home—thankfully, my parents will be seizing the opportunity to house-sit and lay claim to a “vacation” home in Wine Country for the fall.

Still, if I had to guess, I’d say my wife and I have spent the greatest amount of time focusing on easing the transition for L and R.

On the most basic level, this has translated into reading them books about our new home (the favorite has been “The Tiger Who Came to Tea”; “This is London” ranks as No. 2) and studying maps of the city to give them a sense of what landmarks are where. On a more nuanced level, it has meant making sure we’re bringing enough from home to make the new flat feel familiar.

With this in mind—and after much deliberation—it appears that we’re taking the (ridiculous) kittens calendar from the fridge in the kitchen. It also likely means we’re carrying-on an entire suitcase of stuffed animals. And R’s (new) purple inflatable alien.

We’ve taken other steps toward smoothing the transition. Like teaching my parents how to Skype so the girls can have video check-ins with the cat (and, I guess, their grandparents). And procuring postcards for L to fill out and send to her friends at preschool back here at home. Heck, we’ve even packed Halloween decorations so the girls can feel like they’re not missing out (sadly, the Brits don’t really do the whole costume-and-trick-or-treating thing).

For a two- or three-week trip, I’d say this type of preparation would be a bit much. But for four months on another continent, I think it’s spot-on.

Our rationale behind this obsessive planning is simple: We want the move to be an adventure, not an exercise in missing stuff from home. One could argue that we’re rejecting spontaneity (to a point); instead, we like to think we’re trying to incorporate enough touchstones so the girls are comfortable and willing to explore on a whim.

For better or for worse, these comfort levels are critical to the next few months in our world. They play an important role during every long-term family trip; how you choose to support/indulge/address them is up to you.

To what extent have you bent over backward to make your kids comfortable in a new place? How much is too much?

Room at the Inn for Family Travelers

/in , ,
Exploring our surroundings at the Little River Inn.

Exploring our surroundings at the Little River Inn.

For many family travelers, the notion of crashing with youngsters at a romantic inn is a recipe for an anxiety attack. What if they’re loud? What if they disturb the neighbors? What if efforts to control the kiddos trigger an all-out melt down?

Yes, these are all legitimate concerns. But in the right kind of atmosphere, the experience actually can be pleasant.

I came to this epiphany late last month on a solo road trip with my two girls. As part of our adventure, we spent two nights at the Little River Inn, a circa-1853 lodge-style spot along the Mendocino County Coast. A number of family-friendly amenities there made the stay palatable for all of us—and other guests, too. Here a closer look at those that made the biggest difference.

  • Suites. Standard rooms generally can feel cramped for a family of 3 or 4 (or more). Thankfully, the inn offered the Llama Barn Suite, a private one-bedroom cottage about a mile from the main lodge. The girls and I used the front room like a playroom, spending time there playing games, telling stories and horsing around. At night, when I put the kids to sleep in the bedroom, I used the front room as an office and workout space.
  • Kitchenettes. We family travelers don’t need a full kitchen with a stovetop and oven, but a refrigerator and, sometimes, a microwave, sure make things easier. At the Little River Inn, I stocked the Llama Barn Suite fridge with milk and fruit to give the girls as snacks. One night, I made us popcorn to snack on outside while we looked for the moon.
  • In-room dining. We tried meals out (one night in Mendocino, the other in the Main Dining Room at the inn itself), but after two debacles (L triggered the first; R the second), I gave up and ordered room-service breakfast on the last morning. This was a nice luxury, especially since the kids woke up early. It also saved me from the (inevitably hour-long) process of getting them ready.
  • Open (outdoor) space. Hotel lobbies are great places for letting kids burn off steam after a long day of travel. Open fields and/or meadows are even better. Our accommodations at the Little River Inn had two options for this: A patch of grass right off the patio of the front room, and the beach at Van Damme State Park, located just across Highway 128 from the main lodge. I set the girls loose (under supervision, of course) in both spots. They returned happy and tired.

The fifth and final element of a family-friendly atmosphere at a small hotel is one that’s challenging to define. I like to call it: the Wild Card.

This might be an on-site swing set or playground. It might be a waterfall just outside the room. Whatever it is, the Wild Card must be something that piques your kids’ curiosity. And it can’t ever get old.

The Llama Barn Suite had a few of these.

No. 1, of course, were the namesake llamas—four of them in all, housed in a pen just a short walk from our front door. Every morning the innkeepers Marc and Cally Dym left us with radish greens to feed the critters. And feed them we did; my girls were obsessed (and still excitedly pontificate on what types of greens and goodies would make for good llama snacks).

We also had access to a beautiful garden, a spot where the Dyms grew everything from Zinnias and Peonies to strawberries, raspberries and sugar snap peas. (A note in our room informed us we could sample the fruit, in moderation.)

Finally, of course, was Rosie, the Bernese Mountain Dog that patrolled the area between the Llama Suite and nearby homes. Even though the pooch was twice their size, my girls fell in love with her and showered her with attention pretty much every time we left the cottage. The dog became the de facto mascot of our trip; my kids drew cards for her before we left.

The bottom line: The notion of vacationing with young children at a romantic getaway doesn’t have to be an oxymoron. As I learned last month, a few tiny touches can go a long way.

Just make sure you pick accommodations from innkeepers who understand what kinds of touches those might be.

For what kinds of amenities and/or features do you look when you book accommodations on family trips?

The Most Kid-Friendly Travel Destination Ever?

/in ,
L shows off a winning handful.

L shows off a winning handful.

In my experience as a parent, the most kid-friendly travel destinations involve adventure, interactivity, constantly changing scenery (to keep things interesting), and a quest. They take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. They spark imagination. And they allow for souvenirs.

For all of these reasons, Glass Beach, part of MacKerricher State Park in the tiny Northern California town of Fort Bragg, might just be the most kid-friendly travel destination ever.

As its name suggests, the beach is known for glass—specifically, beach glass. And there’s a whole lot of it; so much so that in any given handful bits of beach glass outnumber rocks by a margin of 10 to 1. Most of the bits have been smoothed and rounded by the churning of the ocean. For kids who like hunting for treasure and sparkly stuff, it’s the perfect activity for an epic day.

Also important: It’s totally free.

I first visited the beach eight years ago with my wife (on a trip to celebrate my first section-front feature in the San Francisco Chronicle). This past weekend, as part of a 3-day road-trip along the Mendocino County coast, I went back—this time with my two daughters.

To put it simply, the girls could not believe their eyes. My older daughter, L, thought I had brought her to a secret land of jewels. My favorite of her exclamations: “Daddy, the beach is glimmering!”

It helped that we selected a cove where there were no other humans in sight. From a parking lot near the trailhead, we hiked about a quarter-mile on an access path flanked on one side by wildflowers. Then we descended a steep trail to the beach—a typical NorCal affair, complete with bull kelp, natty sea grass, sand fleas and millions and millions of tiny rocks.

We spent about an hour down there, sifting through handfuls of rocks and glass to put together a modest collection. I instructed the girls to look for the rarest types: red and blue. They came up empty on those fronts, but ended up with a Ziploc baggie full of white, green and brown.

(Technically, at least according to signs all over the place, we weren’t supposed to take the glass off the beach. To any state park officials reading this: I confess. I’m guilty. I did it for the kids. And I’d do it again.)

The beach itself has a colorful (pun intended) history. One of my travel-writing buddies, Susan Kim, did a piece for Coastal Living a few years back on the place; in it, she notes that most of the glass comes from the site’s former life as a dump.

Of course I didn’t explain the true story to my girls. Instead, I let them tell the tales. L, who is developing an imagination to rival J.K. Rowling’s, said the “glass jewels” had been sent to shore by ocean princesses who wanted little girls to enjoy them. R, my younger daughter, was content to chant, “Beach glass! Beach glass!” incessantly (until a sand flea or seagull distracted her).

Three days later (and counting), the girls are still talking about the experience.

Here at home, the glass lives in a tiny jar, and L has counted the contents at least a dozen times. If R can’t spot the jar on the counter, she yells, “Where’s [the] beach glass?” until someone points it out. There have been pictures of the beach glass. Songs about it. Even some poems.

If all of this doesn’t prove that Glass Beach is the most kid-friendly travel destination ever, I’m not sure what else could.

What are some of your favorite kid-friendly travel destinations and why?

 

 

An Ode to Solo-Parent Family Travelers

/in ,
Happy times, with a tree llama.

Happy times, with a tree llama.

After two-thirds of a mommy-free, 3-day road-trip with my girls, I can tell you this: Solo-parent family travel is a LOT harder than I ever thought it would be.

In my abbreviated experience, challenges generally come in two main flavors: Kid-time and alone-time.

The ones during kid time should come as no surprise. Meals are tough because you’ve got no help to feed or discipline or disrobe crayons or put together a puzzle or cut grilled cheese or chase down that piece of fried fish one of the children just threw across the room. Bedtimes can be rough when the kids are on different schedules and there’s only one parent to wipe butts and brush teeth and read books and sing songs and snuggle.

Alone time presents its own obstacles. Because there’s nobody else to watch the kids for even a moment, you find yourself Instagramming and scribbling story notes while adjudicating a game of “Go Fish,” eating dinner (of unclaimed pasta with butter sauce, natch) at 5 p.m., and engaging in training “runs” of four miles (in circles) around the living room of your rental cabin.

(Yes, I really did that last one. I know: I am a complete and total freak.)

Months from now, I’ll look back on this experience with my girls as difficult but fun. Heck, next week I plan to write about some of the amazing stuff we have done over the last 48 hours.

Right now, however, crashed out on a couch while the gals snooze away in the other room, I see the takeaway as more visceral: nobody—I mean, nobody—deserves more credit in the world of parenting than single moms and dads who vacation with multiple children multiple times a year.

For these parents, solo-parent vacations aren’t a choice.  For these parents, help rarely is even an option. For these parents, this rigmarole is reality, on every single trip.

In my book—especially tonight—that makes them rock stars; parents from whom I’ve got a ton to learn.

On the Road Again, Solo with Kids

/in ,
Little R (and friends) on our last big roadie.

Little R (and friends) on our last big roadie.

A few weeks ago, when Powerwoman decided to book a 4-day trip to see friends and family members back East (we both hail from New York), I was left with a number of options to entertain the girls. The County Fair! Museums in the city! Kicking it at home!

Had I chosen any one of these, all three of us would have been perfectly content with the result. Instead, however, I opted for something far more adventuresome (and outlandish and insane): A road trip.

That’s right. A road trip. Alone. With two kids under the age of five.

The trip is this weekend. The plan is simple: We pile into a 2013 Toyota RAV4 Limited, take our time driving up to the Mendocino County coast, and spend the long weekend exploring nooks and crannies of the area from our home base at the Little River Inn outside of Mendocino.

Am I nuts? Am I delusional? Most of my friends think so. One buddy asked if I was going to hire help along the way. Another—a mom, mind you—said she would “dread” a roadie without “backup” (i.e., her partner). Even my own parents questioned whether I’d have the energy and wherewithal to handle the challenge.

I certainly don’t scoff at these concerns. I mean, save for day trips here and there, I’ve never traveled solo with both girls–not by car, not by plane, not by hang-glider. What’s more, it’s probably not the brightest idea to take two kids who get car sick on a road trip that involves windy roads.

Still, why not go? We’ve got the time. We’ve got the car. We’ve even got a collective will to explore.

(As an aside, our room apparently is next to a llama barn, so I could say, “We’ve got llamas.”)

In general, my motto when it comes to traveling with my kids is this: Go big. Go often. And go to places they’ll enjoy. On paper, this trip should achieve every part of that credo. Now all we have to do is get out there.

Stay tuned throughout the week for nightly updates from the road. For more up-to-the-minute coverage, follow me on Instagram and like the blog on Facebook.

What’s the craziest solo trip you’ve ever taken with your kids?