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This is one of my biggest pet peeves: parents who think that when it comes to their child in public, anything goes. For nearly a decade I have regretted not confronting a posse of parents on the Eurostar who allowed their children to listen to Disney films on full volume from tablets or mobile phones.
The takeover was as complete as if they had been a menacing gang of drunken teens, and I withdrew into my bank of four seats and gazed at my own two children, who were diligently completing the activity books I had brought along for the journey.
Is this unforgivably smug? Sure. My children’s exemplary behaviour was the product of careful research and planning and consistent expectations, plus a few unbreakable family rules (among them most certainly no watching devices in public spaces without headphones, but also no devices under the age of four, just occasional weekend television). Smug again.
And, of course, everyone gets to make their own rules. But we all have a shared interest in harmonious interactions in public spaces. I’m equally frustrated by parents who drag children to public spaces only to keep them hooked up to tech like an IV drip. Children, like dogs, should be let loose in public spaces when they’re trained. But that training does need to be conducted in real-life circumstances. What a conundrum.
Expectation vs reality
Nowhere is this seemingly contradictory challenge more apparent than in hotels. These tend to fall into two main categories: child-obsessed, or child-phobic. Last summer I was sitting on the terrace of an upscale French hotel with a friend whose young child was loudly decrying the lack of whatever snack he particularly fancied.
This was after he had cannonballed into the pool for an hour, shrieking each and every time, which set off his younger sister, who was attempting to snooze by the pool.
‘Gentle Parent’ that my friend is, she proposed to the elder child that he express his joy more quietly, but no dice. So my friend turned her attention (loudly) to the poolside service and how it wasn’t fast enough: her child tends to blow his top when he’s hungry, and he was out of routine.
British families often assume that hotels – whether here or abroad – will cater to expectations such as an early child-focused mealtime, or a nursery-style children’s menu. My friend’s son was not thrilled with the options at the French hotel, which comprised miniature versions of the adult fare. “I thought,” my friend wailed, “that this was a family-friendly hotel!”
And herein lies the problem: there is no universal definition for that term. Family-friendly often means complete segregation: at the Island Shangri-La in Hong Kong, the hotel devotes an entire floor to 21 themed family rooms and suites, with a fully equipped shared pantry and living-dining-play room.
This is one school of thought: segregate families so they can squeal and keep odd hours. The British Luxury Family Hotels group delivers this formula well at its properties including the Ickwork in Suffolk, Woolley Grange near Bath and the beautifully set Fowey Hall in Cornwall.
They offer two complimentary hours of childcare each day and a separate children’s teatime, plus an evening listening/video monitor service so parents can put children to bed and then dine downstairs. While I enjoyed my stays at these hotels when my children were very young, they were so child-focused that I felt I never quite escaped the nursery vibe.
But too often the alternative, when parents try to bring well-trained children into adult spaces, is knee-jerk disapproval from other guests. Once my husband and I were having lunch at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons with our four-month-old son. As we entered the dining room a fellow diner brayed like a donkey: “A baby! That will ruin my lunch!”
In the event, the baby, a generally quiet one, slept throughout the service. The man continued to bray loudly throughout the meal, and then – well-oiled by the end – loudly proclaimed him a very reasonable baby, and noted for the whole dining room that the mother’s figure had bounced back admirably in such a short span of time. The mother was not amused.
We have returned with our children to this restaurant for a few special meals, because it is so good at educating people about how to eat well: the vast kitchen garden is filled with seasonal goodies (that same baby, as a five-year-old, happened upon Raymond Blanc himself in the gardens and enjoyed an impromptu tutorial on farm-to-table eating).
Segregation is a mistake – for the children, but also for the societal long game. Instead, I would like to propose clearer categories.
Hotels might be either:
1. Child-focused: totally fine to act like a hyena or any other wild beast. The activities, entertainment and food are all aimed at the under-10s
2. Child-friendly/open: children prepared to act broadly like adults, enjoying proper food and conversation
3. Child-free: zero tolerance for under-12s.
Under this new social contract, I would aim for 80 per cent of hotels to occupy option two. But this would require a universal shift in etiquette for the three primary stakeholders: parents; hospitality staff; fellow patrons. Consider these two below experiences.
Once my three-year-old son and I spent a few days at Bad Ragaz, a fabulous spa hotel in the east of Switzerland. We followed the child-friendly hours in the pool and had a marvellous time exploring the art, cycling and walking paths around the hotel.
My son was so impressed with the elegance of the hotel and its restaurants that he worked hard, imitating the behaviour of our fellow guests, most of whom were in the latter half of adulthood. On the final day, as we walked into breakfast, a retired banker from Frankfurt approached our table wielding a giant Kinder bar for my son.
He had so enjoyed our company on his annual month-long visit, he said, that he wanted the child to remember him. This was, of course, a great kindness. But it was also a power move: reinforce good behaviour by praising it.
Bad Ragaz is one of the world’s most luxurious hotels – but we have often stayed in Travelodges while driving south in France. In their way, these have delivered just as many important lessons: how to navigate the breakfast buffet without ruining the cheese plate/toaster/egg boiling station for the next guest; how to maintain reasonable volumes; how to collectively make sure the dog doesn’t climb onto furniture or run amok.
As with dogs, so with children: it’s important to model and reward good behaviour, and firmly point out unacceptable behaviour. So, am I effectively calling for Britons to raise Spanish or French children? To make like the Italians and accept that dinner will be at 8pm, not 5? Perhaps.
But really, it is a more natural way of being a family: acknowledging that parents, too, deserve to enjoy themselves, and not necessarily in a primary-coloured suite. Of course, there’s the occasional opportunity to stay in, say, the Ninjago-themed room at Legoland. Knock yourselves out.
But if we want to raise a generation of people like the Frankfurt banker, not the Cotswolds donkey, then we need to train early and often.
Badly behaved British children are ruining hotels – we need to be more French
Children shouldn’t disturb other guests when on holiday, but you have to let them learn how to do that in the first place