I’ve never been that keen on the actual process of travelling with children, I know, I know, but it’s because they’re so often sick, even on quite short journeys. I blame Steve, according to his mother he was terribly car sick as a child.
We started this trip as we meant to go on, with Eve throwing up on the plane to LA. Nothing quite like standing in an interminable immigration queue at 3am with a sick encrusted child. Since then, Ned has largely carried the baton, but Dickon and I have also been sick on a boat and Steve looked distinctly green after his sky jump. The fact that they all make the most almighty fuss about taking travel sick pills doesn’t help.
So we just let them get on with it. We collect sick bags whenever we can and they’ve become pretty good at hitting the target whilst driving at speed. It doesn’t seem to bother them that much, and they’re usually pretty cheerful afterwards, especially if we buy them Coke. They’ve yet to be sick on a bus or train, but it’s surely just a matter of time.