Good things about Monkey's Christmas trip to Ireland when he was four and a half

It wasn't all doom and gloom on the Monkey front. Some things were pretty good, from both our points of view.

My highlights

Walking: For the first trip we've made since the time Monkey was 8 months old, we didn't take the stroller with us. It was a bit of a sacrifice for the airports, where we're used to being able to load it up with all our hand-luggage bits and pieces instead of having to lug them (eponymously, even), but to be honest, hucking them all out again for security and boarding, and taking the wheels off so the Bob would fit through the x-ray machine almost made it not worth it anyway. And, more to the point, these days Mabel will scream blue murder rather than ride in it, while the instant it's around Monkey accesses his lazy gene and hops in for the easy option. So we left it at home (and brought the Ergo for Mabel, of course). And he walked everywhere, with very little complaint. He walked up and down to the train station, up and down to the village, around town (a bit), two-thirds of the way down Dun Laoghaire pier and back, and through endless airport corridors, even when he'd just been woken up, and was generally a superstar about it. I had feared sit-downs and demands for piggy-backs and whining, and there was none of that.

Sleeping: Last year, Monkey's bedtimes in Ireland were a long-drawn-out affair with a lot of calling back, and staying with, and wanting Mummy, and it went on and on half the night. In retrospect, this is because he was coming to the end of needing a nap, but was still napping solidly every day, so that combined with the 5-hour time difference, he just had no need to fall asleep until 10pm, even if we wanted him out of our collective hairs at 8. This year, with naps a thing of the past, he was put to bed and left alone and was out like a light in a while; no muss, no fuss. (Well, some fuss, but a few nights he just wanted to be near me, so he came and slept in the room I was in and his Dad slept in his room.) Huge improvement.

Pooing: When he needed to go, he went. He still wanted to be accompanied, but he went and it was fine. Hooray for poo.

His highlights

Interacting: About half of the time, when not tired and paranoid, Monkey actually did have a really good time playing with his cousins. He ran around happily making cushion forts and jumping on beds with the five-and-a-half-, seven-and-a-half-, and eleven- year-olds, and even shared a lot of giggles on Christmas Day with the 17-year-old (who is fabulous with babies and children, I have to say). It was great to see.

Playing: He went to a fabulous play place called Zoom with dad, his aunt and his 2-year-old cousin one morning while Mabel and I stayed at home sick, and had a wonderful time running, jumping, climbing, and shooting air guns. He even talked to his aunt.

Receiving: Opening presents was declared a good time. He got a telescope with a cool case, a pair of walkie talkies, a voice-changing loud-hailer, Toy Story Lego, books, a pre-loved PowerRanger (red), a motion-sensitive spider robot, and a chocolate santa. And probably more things I'm forgetting.

Pooing: But the absolute number one best thing about Monkey's visit to Ireland, he will tell you, was when he used the automated public toilet that he and his father encountered on a saunter down to James Joyce's Martello tower in Sandycove while Mabel and I visited the doctor (we missed all the best stuff). From the door that opens without a touch, to the soap and water that come out all on their own, to the way you didn't need to flush, it was up and down the most exciting thing about Ireland this year.

To each his own, I suppose.

With the aforementioned 17-year-old cousin.
Does this look like a kid who's having a thoroughly miserable time? I think not.