Vacation dilemma: the must-sees vs. the wanna-sees

On a European vacation with a child, do you concentrate on the 'important stuff,' or let him choose the activities?

By Robert Klose

from the July 6, 2007 edition

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I recently took my son on a pleasant arc of a trip to Iceland, Germany, and Poland. It seemed the perfect time for such a journey: First, Anton's age. An 11-year-old is still attached to his family, yet is independent enough to pull his own weight and make his preferences known. Second, he isn't yet mortified by the idea that he has a parent. And third, we would be staying with friends, all of whom have a child around my son's age.

I had anticipated introducing Anton to many wonders: the rugged, "dawn of the earth" landscape of Iceland; the fast trains and quaint marketplaces of Germany; and the glory of Warsaw's reconstructed Old Town, to name just a few intended goals.

When making a trip of such sweep with a child, a parent runs the risk of trying too hard to make it "just right." This might erupt as a maddening rush from one museum to another, capped by the spectacle of the parent pleading with his child to at least glance at Beethoven's piano while the little one stares longingly at another kid sitting cross-legged in a corner, sucking on a lollipop with deep satisfaction.

What I learned – and very quickly at that – was to allow Anton to lead as much as possible. Of course, when one is in Berlin, seeing the place where the Wall once stood is obligatory. But if one tries to do everything, museum overload soon sets in, and the entire operation grinds to a halt.

Having said this, I was often unprepared for the things that captured Anton's interest. In Iceland, for example, as I tried to direct his attention to a historical marker, I turned to find that he had escaped me. A quick search found him scaling a rocky slope, waving to me to join him at the top. I did so, and the effort paid off by affording me a view of an endless, lunarlike landscape that reflected what the world must have looked like when it was young.

An Icelandic friend of mine repeatedly invited us to visit the museum where he works. This place had been the home of the late writer Halldór Laxness, Iceland's only Nobel laureate. My personal interest was great, but I braced myself for Anton's response.

When we got to the museum, I felt that a cursory look-see would do. My friend, however, agitated for our taking the full audio tour. "I don't think Anton will last five minutes," I suggested with utmost tact.

But to my surprise, Anton donned the headset and began the tour on his own. Something about the house – who knows what it was? – had caught his attention, and he completed the entire circuit. The icing on the cake was the ride my friend gave him in Mr. Laxness's Jaguar.

The story repeated itself from there. I would suggest something, and Anton might go along. In Germany, he liked Bremen's science museum and Mainz's marketplace.

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