Why You Should Take a 1–1 Vacation with Your Kid

“All I do is yell at the kid,” I told my wife one evening.

It was in the summer of 2018. As for just about any adult in their mid-thirties, life was busy, ridiculously busy. We homeschooled our two children. My wife Jodi ran a thriving Etsy business. I worked at home as an engineering manager, a job I found fulfilling but demanding.

“I know,” she responded. The look in her eyes contained the worry I also felt. The kid was getting older, and time is stolen quickly during those formidable years.

I told myself I’d eventually find the time and a way to bond with him. But every day he moved closer to five years old felt one day closer to being forever remembered as his “grumpy dad”.

I imagined him as a teenager, or young adult, wanting nothing to do with me. Why? Because he would have had little to no fond memories of our time together. All our time together was me telling him to “clean up!” or “stop fighting with your sister!” or “eat your food!” or “don’t touch that [insert potentially dangerous object here]!”.

The hard truth was, I was not being a good dad to him. Something had to change. But what?

A roadblock was the kid was bonkers. By bonkers, I mean, he was a less benevolent version of the comic strip character of Dennis the Menace. Like a strange twist to the Midas touch, everything he laid his hands on seemed to turn to chaos.

I’m a person who thrives in a land of orderliness, a mythical realm I strive to create daily. Some days I’d get close to having enough energy to keep things up to my standards (which are likely too high, but I’ll explore that in another article). Dishes would be washed, dinners would be had, toys would be returned to their place of origin, and the sun would set on a freshly mowed and manicured lawn.

But then, my dear boy would enter the scene. It was as if a firebreathing dragon (albeit, a very cute one) would fly over the land and sear the ground with its fury. What I had just brought order too, was destroyed.

Jodi and I continued our walk up and down our long driveway, the summer air fresh, despite the sour anxiety I felt in my heart. “I think I need to find a way to spend time with just him, where I can get to know him, but away from here. That way, I won’t be worried about the messes he makes, he won’t be able to antagonize his sister, and, he and I will have to find a good way to coexist.”

“So what are you thinking about doing,” my wife asked.

I thought for a moment. I’d always had a dream to one day take a road trip with the family. But Jodi and my daughter did not travel well in a car, so our trips had always been via plane.

I hated flying by plane. I was a fearful flier and did it out of necessity because my job required it. But a road trip had a feeling of magic about it, of control, something I liked to have. In a car, I could go when I wanted, stop when I wanted, and choose what paths I wanted to go down.

“I want to take him to Maine,” I told her.

“Maine?”

“Remember, my brother just went there and told us how amazing it was. It’s also only a couple of day’s trip from Ohio. I’d only need to take a week off work.”

We agreed I could give it a try. The next day, I decided to tell my son, whose nickname, which I’ll use here, was Goobie.

“Hey, Goobie!” I said the next morning, navigating my way through a mess of toys laying in front of his bed.

“What daddy?” he said groggily.

“Remember that time at the mall when you saw all the seagulls, and you asked where they came from, and I told you they came from Lake Eerie?”

“Yes.”

“And remember you said you wanted to drive up to Lake Eerie right then and there, but I said we didn’t have time?”

He stared at me, his eyes indicating he recalled the conversation.

“Then you asked me which state Lake Eerie was in, and I said it touches Ohio but also touches a bunch of other states.”

He sat up in his bed and leaned forward.

“How many states are there?” you asked me.

“Fifty!” he said.

“You remember! Do you also remember that you asked me if we could start driving right then and there to go visit them all?”

I definitely had his attention.

“Well guess what?”

His eyes grew a bit wider.

“I’m going to take you to Maine next month! That means you’ll get to drive through a bunch of states, and get to see the Atlantic ocean!”

He jumped up in his bed. “How many states will we get!”

I pulled out a gift I’d just purchased for him on Amazon, a scratch-off state map. I handed it to him. His face filled with joy in what became one of the happiest moments I’ve had as a parent.

I pointed to the map with my finger.

“We’ll need to drive to northern Ohio, then cut east through Pennsylvania.” I slid my finger toward the upper right corner of the Map. “Then we go through New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire.” I tapped the map. “And then we’re there, Maine!”

I smiled. “And on our way home, I think we can take a different way, and get you Massachusettes, Connecticut, and I think we can even sneak into Rhode Island, though it’s a little out of the way.”

His eyes gleamed. “Can I scratch off the states I’ve already been to now?”

“Of course!”

He hurried to find a quarter and began scratching off the handful of states he’d already been. Jodi watched from behind me. She was smiling. This plan seemed to be going well.

A month passed, and I found myself having a much better time bonding with Goobie. At last, we had something in common, a great adventure we were both very excited to set out on. We talked about sights we’d see, things we’d do, and a lot about lobster. He was very excited to try lobster since he already loved crab legs.

Soon the day came. I rented a small SUV for the trip, we said our goodbyes, and off we went.

Each time we entered a new state, he’d snatch out his map and methodically scratch it off. The joy on his face when he captured each new state was something I’ll never forget.

At one point, I accidentally took the wrong road, and we ended up at the shore of Lake Champlain. It presented an unpassable obstacle from New York to Vermont. Unpassible, that is, except by ferry boat. Although I still had the option to drive hours around the lake (which was my original intent) we both decided the ferry boat would be more fun.

It was.

In New Hampshire, we hiked near the base of Mount Washington (we got there too late to drive up). And in Maine, we found a motel near Arcadia National Park and began our exploration of the beautiful landscapes and ocean-side mountains, but also of our relationship as father and son.

We drove to the top of Cadillac Mountain, where I did my best to repress my helicopter parent instincts and let him lead the way. He jumped from rock to rock, sometimes closer to the edge of a dropoff than I liked. But as I gave him more space and relinquished some of his boundaries, he gained my trust by actually staying within those new, more open boundaries.

I could tell he relished this taste of freedom I gave him. I took note it would be important for me to continue to give him more space, even after the trip.

We spent most of our time in Maine hiking, eating, and exploring. Back at the motel, I made a point to let him have an evening swim in the pool. Both my kids love swimming more than just about anything else.

The trip felt simultaneously like a lifetime and a moment. The ride home was fun as he collected more states. Though I felt sad life would soon get back to normal.

Well, almost normal.

I’d learned a little more about parenting during this trip, and my son had finally seen a different side of me. I wasn’t just the borderline workaholic clean freak who tried to keep everything as orderly as possible at home. Rather, he and I found a way to enjoy life together by marveling at the wonders of nature out on the open road.

Now, nearly every night, before I tuck him in for bed, he asks me one question.

“What’s your favorite part of Maine, daddy?”

“You,” I reply with a smile.

That exchange represents one of my biggest accomplishments ever as a parent. It is the true prize from our trip to Maine.

Do Goobie and I still have rough patches?

Absolutely. As with any parent and child relationship, there will be good times and bad.

But he’s forever going to be my favorite part of Maine. I hope that someday when he’s older, he remembers me as his favorite part of Maine as well.