THEY were just back from their week in the sun; the cases weren't yet unpacked. But they were getting ready to go out again - the fridge was empty, so they had to make a quick trip to the shops.

It was raining, of course. Jonah's mum reached to take his coat from the peg. "Come and get ready," she said. Jonah stayed where he was. He stared back at her, eyes wary, full of suspicion. "We're not going on holiday, are we?" he demanded. It was only when they could convince him they were only going shopping that he agreed to put on his coat.

Of course, no holiday with a two-and-a-half year old is going to be exactly restful, but they'd chosen the place with care: a well-equipped apartment with sea views and use of a shared swimming pool. It wasn't until they got there that they found how hard it was to get to the beach or walk with a child in the narrow, busy streets. But they'd brought a few carefully selected toys and the sun was guaranteed. Who wouldn't insist on guaranteed sun after the summer we've had?

Yet half way through this longed-for break, Jonah declared: "I want to go home. I want my toys." Many adults ask for three things from a holiday: sun, a handy pool, complete idleness. Exhausted parents probably want this more than most. But children can't lie around doing nothing. They wouldn't want to if they could. They may enjoy splashing around in a swimming pool, but they can't do that all the time. As for the sun, too much is bad for them. In fact, they don't mind cold (as long as they're dressed for it) or even rain.

Most grown-ups shudder at memories of the traditional English seaside holiday - cowering behind a windbreak on wet sand, sand in the (aptly named) sandwiches, a sea too cold for anything but a very quick dip. What those of us who experienced such things forget is that when we were very small, we really didn't mind. In fact, we liked nothing better than to spend hours building sandcastles, channelling water, trying to beat the incoming tide. It was fun to run shrieking into the icy sea, and home-made sandwiches eaten in the fresh air tasted pretty good.

Today's ideal adult holiday, doing absolutely nothing beside a sun baked swimming pool, is a child's idea of hell. Children want activity - if not their toys to play with, then something new and different to explore and enjoy. Of course, some holiday resorts lay on these things, but in a way, that's a bit like having two separate holidays.

If parents want to build up happy family memories for the future, then they probably need to give up their dream holiday for a few years, at least until their children are old enough to share that dream - by which time, in any case, parents are the last people they'll want to share it with.

When our kids were just pre-teen, their favourite holiday place was a remote cottage in the Highlands of Scotland that we went back to year after year. It had no electricity when we first went there, and we had to light a fire to heat the water, but there was a rocky shoreline with pools to explore, ruined castles, strange deserted mansions hidden in luxuriant woodland, ferries and boats to carry us from place to place. It was an idyllic spot and we all loved it.

Or I thought we did. Our children certainly gave that impression at the time. In fact, they still talk of it with misty-eyed nostalgia. But just lately, something's set me wondering if we ever really know what our children feel about the things we lay on for them.

Friends of ours used to take their children to stay in just such a remote cottage, year after year. It was set near the sea in open fields where a happy herd of pigs foraged behind an electric fence. There were birds to watch and miles of empty beaches to walk along. It was the perfect holiday place; they all loved going there. Or so our friends firmly believed.

It's only now, years later, that they've learned that their children were so bored that they'd sneak out into the field and dare one another to touch the electric fence, just for kicks to relieve the tedium.

Perhaps after all, parents shouldn't even try to find the ideal family holiday. Perhaps they should just go for what they know they'll enjoy themselves. That way, at least they'll know someone's happy.

Published: 25/11/2004