We went on holiday recently. Our first trip abroad with small people, and on a plane no less. Well, I say holiday, as any parent (of in particular small children) will tell you, it wasn’t a holiday in any recognisable sense. No leisurely lie-ins, hours spent reading books, sunbathing or pottering around ancient ruins. No long, lingering lunches in the sun/shade or mornings idly devoted to wandering around markets deciding which is the most appropriate memento of the trip. Oh no. This was the military operation of our daily life at home transported several hundred miles to a place with no playdates or toddler groups, but with sun, sand (though we barely saw it) and, crucially for Little BB and therefore myself and Mr. BB, a swimming pool. Several in fact. Including one giant outdoor pool/lake in which LBB spent a good 50% of his waking hours. You’ll notice that Mini BB’s wants/desires don’t get a mention. Sadly, as a second child, this would appear to be his lot in life. For now at least, and possibly forever more (until LBB leaves home).