A close friend is baffled by parents who send their children to kids’ clubs on holidays. ‘What’s the point in having children if you don’t even want to spend time with them?’ she asks me.
Now, I agree that the best thing about holidays is spending time with my children: I love that we can enjoy each other’s company without the rush to get ready for school punctuating our days. I feel my heart lift when I see them invent games together; am frequently taken aback by how perceptive and emotionally intelligent they are - and they all make me laugh hugely.
But I feel utterly unashamed when it comes to encouraging Astrid, eight, Xavi, six and Juno, aged two, to try out kids’ clubs. In fact, it was only when I heard criticisms of kid-club-parenting that I realised how divisive a subject it is. On Mumsnet, one camp of parents believe 'we go on holiday to spend our time together as a family' while another say their children 'meet friends and you get a couple of hours to yourself'. Each side judges the other.
On a recent trip to Portugal, we stayed at Club Med’s cliffside resort Da Balaia in Albufeira. The green lawns of the resort are set above winding steps that lead to pale sands and the Atlantic Ocean, framed by fiery orange cliffs.
My children don’t enjoy indoor kids’ clubs - they tried one for an hour once and never went back. But throw in activities and they ask to go. Here, Astrid and Xavi tried archery and learnt circus skills, including the high flying trapeze. We’d drop them off after a buffet breakfast each day and two hours later their confidence had grown as they told us about their new skills over lunch.
Xavi’s often too nervous to play football in the school playground as he’s not quite sure of the rules, but he joined in at the kids’ club and enjoyed it so much that he’s now starting regular sessions after school.
Many of the children at the resort were French, and after a few games of cache-cache (hide-and-seek), Astrid and Xavi picked up ca vas, saluts and mercis.
Juno went to a smaller kids’ club for younger children, which had its own spacious playground with slides, rockers and ride-on cars. I’m always struck when I meet people with the rare, calm and secure energy that children instinctively trust. Here, it’s part of the job description: the childcare team can’t spend a week or two settling new children in, as they would at a nursery, when their stay is temporary. I was amazed at how happily Juno got involved with treasure hunts, playing in the paddling pool and around the playground, making art work and ‘reading’ lots of stories.
It’s strikingly unusual for me to have two hours free with absolutely no demands. I’d injured my knee but watched yoga sessions from afar in case I could pick up the benefits vicariously. I felt a rare sense of calm when swimming in the wonderful, wild adults-only pool, fringed with rushes, among tadpoles, frogs and dragonflies. My biggest indulgence was lying on a lounger, sipping freshly-made juice and spending an unreasonable amount of time deliberating on the most luxurious of decisions: whether to read another chapter of my book or swim a few more lengths. Did I feel guilty? Absolutely not.
We’d have all our meals together as a family. One of the benefits of a French-feeling resort is that the food is excellent: different areas around the restaurant would have seared tuna, seafood paella, roast suckling pig, noodles or ceviche. Each would be manned by servers. In what might be peculiarly British behaviour, I felt concerned they might take it personally if I didn’t choose ‘their’ dish so I’d tell them all I’d return later. The buffet set up was brilliant for the children: they ate olives with every meal, discovered they love squid and would have happily spent the whole night dipping strawberries in a chocolate fountain.
We spent our afternoons in the family swimming pool, on the beach or down by the beach volleyball court - occasionally running back to our interconnecting, functional rooms (with pleasingly comfortable beds) to change out of wet swimwear. On our first afternoon, there was a picnic for all the children and their families, with a bouncy castle, giant games of Connect Four and lots of doughnuts. Entertainers dressed as superheroes and I’m sure it helped Juno feel more comfortable when playing with them at the kids’ club.
For me, the best moment of the holiday was when Astrid showed me all she’d learnt on the trapeze at the kids’ club. She was clipped up to a safety rope and climbed a ladder, past the safety net, up 10 metres to the platform where she grabbed onto the bar. She swung through the air, wiggled her legs to gain momentum and on a count of un-deux-trois dropped onto the safety net.
As someone who occasionally gets vertigo and is slightly scared of heights, I admired her hugely. Until she challenged me to have a turn. If it weren’t for my eight-year-old daughter, there is no chance I’d have climbed that ladder. My hands were sweating so much by the time I reached the top the trapeze team had to cover them in chalk so I didn’t slip.
I don’t know whether it was nerves, or simple daftness, but I didn’t realise that my conversation up high could be heard by children on the ground.
'I’m scared of heights, but I can’t let my children know,' I told the trapeze assistant, who kindly didn’t point out that I’d just broadcast the information to them.
'There’s nothing to be scared of, you can do it,' she encouraged me.
I did it. I leant forward, grabbed the trapeze with my tightest grip and swung. I’ve never been on a high trapeze, and the last time I was on one in a gym I was in my teens and would happily hang by my knees. I was very aware of the different body I now inhabit, and grateful that it didn’t let me down as I flew back and forth.
Then the instructor on the ground told me to let go in un-deux-trois. There was no way I could! I kept hold for two more counts before eventually releasing my grip.
I was shaking with nerves and pride as I got down from the safety net. I might be too old for a kids’ club, but I’m not too old to get a confidence boost from learning from my children.
Without Flights Seven nights all-inclusive stay at Club Med Da Balaia, Portugal from £1,129 (was £1,188) per adult (based on double occupancy). Price based on departure date 31.08.25. Book now at [www.clubmed.co.uk/r/da-balaia/y]{href='https://eur01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.clubmed.co.uk%2Fr%2Fda-balaia%2Fy&data=05%7C02%7Cruchira.sharma%40bauermedia.co.uk%7C3ec2ea54fcc6473c292408dda81d3e67%7C0e79f3f34eeb48ed815e2876c379e863%7C0%7C0%7C638851565729548354%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJFbXB0eU1hcGkiOnRydWUsIlYiOiIwLjAuMDAwMCIsIlAiOiJXaW4zMiIsIkFOIjoiTWFpbCIsIldUIjoyfQ%3D%3D%7C0%7C%7C%7C&sdata=OV%2BZ2%2BsXeFbs5TpdvKF6DZlJC6h6KNiDzCbFOCzi%2BLI%3D&reserved=0' target='_blank' rel='noreferrer noopener'} or call 03453 676767
London Departure Seven nights all-inclusive stay at Club Med Da Balaia, Portugal from £1,467 (was £1,526) per adult (based on double occupancy) with return flights from London (LGW) with transfers included. Price based on departure date 31.08.25. Book now at www.clubmed.co.uk/r/da-balaia/y or call 03453 676767