I just learnt the secret to an enjoyable holiday with small children: Mel Buttle

A little trick learned from a young mother may just have saved Mel Buttle’s opportunistic break from being a nightmare.

Travelling with children can be a challenging affair.

The last text I read as the plane began to taxi said: “Hope you’re able to get some rest and unwind.”

I chuckled to myself at the thought as Harry, my two-year-old, once again ripped my sunglasses off my face.

We made the decision to knock off a pre-Christmas family break to Fiji. Gosh it was tempting to write “holiday” then.

The airport security queue was the longest I’ve ever seen – 40 plus-minutes – Harry, of course, didn’t mind at all, as we wound our way around the terminal to head down to customs, he kept himself entertained with his own brand of independent play. The special, new airport monster truck I’d saved up to keep him occupied for this very moment was hurtled through the air – what an arm.

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I then thought to myself: 1. Border security will kick us out 2. This was a huge mistake 3. Are we bad parents? 4. Bribie Island would’ve been just as good.

Somehow we made it to the plane.

It’s a blur of bribery Cheezels and promises that once we’re in Fiji there will be so many trucks to see. Whatever it takes, hey?

As we find our seats, I see an elderly couple breathe a sigh of relief when we pass by. Sometimes if people look particularly grumpy and are staring a little too hard at us, I’ll throw out an “are these our seats here?” to my partner just to put the wind up them.

Harry pulls out all the classic toddler plane moves, standing on the seat to wave to the people behind him, walking up and down the aisle and, of course pulling off the trifecta with a number two nappy that almost required emergency services.

“Did he sleep on the flight?” the same friend who wished me rest messaged, once we’d arrived.

Mel Buttle now knows of the joys of travelling with kids.

To his credit he did, he slept as soon as the pilot said, “Cabin crew please be seated for landing”.

I carried him asleep through Fijian customs and baggage collection; he’s heavy, but I’d rather pull a bicep, than have him engage with the baggage carousel.

There’s something special about waking up on holiday in a new place, it’s obviously extra exciting for toddlers, as he was up at 5am rearing to see if the rock he found last night was still up on the “special rock shelf’’ where I’d put it. Gosh, he has a memory like an elephant, I don’t know my own phone number but he can remember a rock from 12 hours ago? I suppose my brain is full up though, between the nine times table and the lyrics to every Salt-N-Pepa song ever.

We hit our stride on holiday at the pool when we began chatting to the family on the pool chairs next to us. We got the stats out of the way first, their toddler was six months older than Harry, they’re from Melbourne and today was their last day. Boo!

They knew all the tricks and tips for this resort, we listened eagerly about the free cocktail hour on Sunday nights, and how you can take the bread rolls from breakfast and make them into sandwiches for lunch with the ham and cheese from the buffet.

He fell asleep as soon as the pilot said, “Cabin crew please be seated for landing”. Picture: iStock

These guys had mastered the inner workings of this resort and Harry was drawn like a magnet to their kid. Within minutes they were splashing each other, and doing their heavily policed version of sharing the pool toys. We made fast friends with Josh and Rach, even extending a “hopefully we’ll see you at cocktail hour” as we parted ways for the respective toddler’s naps.

“Should we add them on Facebook?” I asked my partner as we ate our pool sandwiches in silence on the floor of the hotel room. Harry’s asleep, so the scraping of the chairs on the tiles was too high a risk.

“Facebook! No that’s way too intense,” she whispered.

“What are we going to do then, Harry is obsessed with them,” I countered.

“Just be cool, and we will probably see them at cocktail hour,” she replied.

I held my fire and, as luck would have it, guess who swanned into cocktail hour, passionfruit margaritas in hand? Our new best friends Josh and Rach! Rach has been a mum for six months longer than us, so she had the foresight to bring toys, books and somehow energy to cocktail hour. Rach invented a game called: Let’s run a lap of the cocktail hour lawn.

It was a huge hit, chewing up minutes at a time so I could talk to Josh and sip my drink, and look at my phone. Now this is a holiday. Well, not for Rach.

Did we just make new couple friends? We exchanged numbers. I’ll wait to see if a group
chat materialises – that’s when you know you’re true pals. I’ve already got the name ready, Bula Bubs 2024.

@melindabuttle