LAST week we took Tate on a trip to Disneyland Paris. We took him last year but he was too young to really understand, so I couldn’t wait to see his face this time around.
We decided to go old-school on our way there and travel by ferry from Dover to Calais instead of flying, which was great as it gave Tate the chance to stretch his legs and burn some energy before the three-hour drive to Paris.
We had invested in an in-car DVD player before we took on this mammoth car journey and I really would recommend it to anyone thinking about strapping their toddlers into car for a long period of time.
Unfortunately Tate is too little to wear headphones (he just kept pulling them off) so we had to endure the Chuggington, Peppa Pig and Rory The Racing Car theme tunes for the duration of the trip, but I suppose that’s better than a screaming two-year-old.
We were staying in The Newport Bay Hotel, set in Disneyland itself, and it was brilliant for Tate as there were different characters visiting the hotel all day long.
He loved meeting Goofy, Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse and it was so cute to see him give them all a cuddle.
This year our visit was all about Tate, me and his dad hardly went on any of the adult rides and we embraced our inner child and joined Tate on the spinning teacups, Aladdin’s magic carpet ride and the Toy Story toy soldiers parachute drop.
To say Tate loved it is an understatement – he ran everywhere, laughed constantly and was mesmerised by the parade at the end of the day.
Suprisingly he was on his best behaviour for the three days we were there. It made a change to be the smug parent with the well behaved child watching all the other kids throw tantrums around us.
The number of times I heard parents saying “look at that little boy, he’s not being naughty” made me think I had picked up the wrong child on our way through the gates.
But nothing lasts forever and the terrible twos kicked in at last when it was time to leave – Tate wanted to see Donald for the 100th time and we didn’t have time to wait for him to re-appear.
So I braced myself, tucked him under one arm and scurried out of the hotel as quickly as I could as people stared at my screaming child – I suppose it was the predictable end to our otherwise drama-free holiday.