One. Do not rush the mornings. A child’s holiday begins with sleeping their fill. A child woken by an alarm will spend the whole morning taking revenge on everyone.
Two. Do not force the lesson. A museum need not be finished; the three things a child loves most in a single gallery are worth more than yawning through the lot. Travel is itself the lesson — there is no need to set homework as well.
Three. Do not hold them hostage to the camera. “Stand still, look here, one more” — do it more than three times a day, and a child’s memory of the journey becomes “the place where I was photographed.” Keep a few blurred shots of a small back mid-run; years later, those are the ones you will love best.
Four. Do not fill every hour. Leave each day a stretch of blank in which nothing is planned, and let the child decide whether to spend it daydreaming, playing in water, or chasing pigeons. The gaps in an itinerary are where the best part of a journey tends to grow.
Five. Do not fear repetition. If a child wants to ride that little train once more, to watch the penguins fed again, then go again. Grown-ups chase “a few more sights”; children chase “once more” — and the latter is the true proof of love.
Six. Do not sum it up for them. On the way home, do not rush to ask, “So what did you learn on this trip?” A seed has fallen into the soil; do not dig it up at once to look. Perhaps three months later, over some ordinary supper, he will suddenly speak of that waterfall — and that is the sound of it sprouting.
Behind all six don’ts lies the same single thing: give the journey back to the child, and let the grown-ups do nothing but hold the net.