As summer approaches, many parents aren’t just planning holidays. They’re carrying the quiet pressure of creating a childhood their children will remember forever.
Last weekend, we found ourselves looking at the calendar.
Most weekends were empty.
Our first instinct wasn’t relief.
It was, should we book something?
Maybe we should organise a day trip.
Perhaps we should invite friends.
Maybe we should make the most of it.
The phrase itself says everything.
Make the most of it.
Somewhere along the way, many of us have started believing that a good summer is one that’s carefully planned.
Not because anyone told us to.
Because it’s what we see.
Beautiful family adventures.
Colour-coded bucket lists.
Packed weekends.
Perfect picnics.
Days that seem to flow effortlessly from one magical memory to the next.
It’s easy to look at it all and wonder whether we’re doing enough.
As teachers, we see another side of childhood.
Every September, children come back through the classroom doors full of stories.
They don’t usually tell us about the expensive day out.
Or the perfectly planned itinerary.
They tell us about camping in the garden.
About catching a frog.
About building a den that collapsed three times before it finally stayed up.
About making a game that only made sense to them.
About eating ice cream that melted faster than they could lick it.
About getting soaked in the paddling pool.
The moments they remember rarely arrive because an adult planned the perfect day.
They happen because childhood was given room to unfold.
Perhaps that’s what we’ve started to lose.
Not unstructured play.
Space.
Space for children to get bored.
Space to invent.
Space to argue, negotiate, fail, adapt and try again.
Space for memories that no one could have planned.
Ironically, the harder we try to create magical childhood memories, the easier it is to miss the ones that are already happening.
Because we’re busy thinking about what’s next.
Should we book something?
Should we make the most of the weather?
Should we fit one more activity in before the holidays end?
Meanwhile, our child has spent the last hour turning a cardboard box into a pirate ship.
When we became parents, we thought our job was to create wonderful childhood memories.
We’re beginning to think our job is something slightly different.
To create the conditions where those memories can happen.
Sometimes that means planning an adventure.
Sometimes it means saying yes to the zoo, the beach or a family holiday.
But sometimes it means protecting an empty Saturday.
Not because we couldn’t think of anything to do.
Because we believe childhood needs space as much as it needs experiences.
This summer, we’re trying to remember something our own childhoods taught us.
The memories that stay with us are rarely the ones that made the best photos.
They’re the ones that made us lose track of time.
Maybe the best thing we can give our children this summer isn’t another plan.
Maybe it’s a little more room for childhood to surprise us all.
We’d love to hear your thoughts.
Do you ever feel the pressure to make every weekend or every holiday “count”?
Or have you found yourself protecting empty days too?
If you want the exact words we use to say no to the invite, and what to say when your child says “I’m bored” twenty minutes in, that’s below.
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