Holidays and Kiddos

I was standing at the school gates last autumn chatting to another mum. Our children both attend a small specialist class attached to a mainstream school, and like so many conversations between parents, we started by complaining about the weather. It was cold, wet and miserable.

“I could really do with a holiday,” I laughed.

She smiled, but it was one of those smiles that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’ll never be able to take him on a plane,” she said quietly before looking away.

That conversation stayed with me. Not because I hadn’t thought the same thing myself, but because I realised how many parents probably feel exactly like she did.

The idea of travelling with an autistic child can feel completely overwhelming. For some families, a holiday simply isn’t the right choice at that moment, and that’s absolutely okay. But for others, it isn’t that a holiday is impossible – it’s about finding the right holiday, at the right time, and preparing in a way that works for your child.

When my son was around two years old and we first started thinking he might be autistic, I worried that so many of the childhood experiences I’d imagined would no longer be possible. Birthday parties, family days out, holidays abroad. Suddenly everything felt uncertain. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t just worried about how he would cope. I was worried about how I would cope too.

Like many parents, I’d heard the horror stories. Meltdowns on flights. Families having to leave attractions early. Judgement from strangers. I started imagining every possible thing that could go wrong before we’d even booked anything.

Starting small

Eventually I realised something. We didn’t have to jump straight into a two-week holiday abroad. We could build up to it. So that’s exactly what we did.

Our first step wasn’t an airport. It was a short break in the Lake District. Even that felt like a huge challenge.

On the morning we were due to leave, my son announced he didn’t want to go. He wanted his own bed, his own toys, his own routine. Everything familiar suddenly felt much safer than somewhere new.

For a moment, I questioned whether we should cancel. Instead, we slowed everything down.

He loves swimming and playgrounds, so we sat together looking at photographs of the swimming pool and the slides. We talked about what the lodge would look like and agreed that we’d just stay one night. We didn’t make promises about the rest of the holiday – we only focused on getting through that first day.

Thankfully, it was a success. Not because everything went perfectly, but because we’d discovered something important. He could cope with staying somewhere different. That gave us the confidence to think about the next step.

Getting ready for the airport

A year later, we booked a week in Majorca.

If I’m honest, the airport frightened me more than the holiday itself. Airports are busy, noisy and unpredictable. There are queues, security checks, unfamiliar announcements and hundreds of people all moving in different directions. It felt like the exact environment my son usually found difficult. So, instead of hoping for the best, we broke the journey down into small, manageable pieces.

We visited a local aviation viewing park where he could watch planes taking off and landing. Better still, there was an aircraft he could actually climb aboard. He sat in the seats, explored the cabin and started asking questions. Suddenly, a plane wasn’t this mysterious thing he’d never experienced. It had become familiar.

We watched videos together showing what happens at an airport – from checking in luggage to walking through security and boarding the aircraft. We talked about each stage before we ever experienced it for real. The more familiar something became, the less frightening it seemed for both of us.

Planning for the what-ifs

Of course, preparation wasn’t just about helping my son. It was helping me too.

My mind naturally jumps to every possible scenario, so I tried to think through them one by one. What if our flight was delayed? What if our luggage went missing? What if he refused to eat? What if he had a meltdown? What if other passengers stared? What if he became ill?

Instead of letting those worries spiral, I started making simple plans for each one. Extra snacks. Spare clothes in hand luggage. Favourite comfort items. Downloaded programmes on the tablet. Medication packed where I could reach it quickly. Knowing I had a plan didn’t mean those things couldn’t happen, but it did make them feel less overwhelming.

One thing I also had to remind myself was that my own stress affects my children. If I become anxious, they notice. That’s easier said than done, of course, but simply recognising it helped me approach situations differently. I tried to leave extra time, accept that things might take longer and remind myself that perfection wasn’t the goal. Enjoying time together was.

Letting go of the perfect holiday

Was the holiday perfect? Not at all. Did my son suddenly become an adventurous eater? Absolutely not. I think he survived on toast, chips and the occasional bread roll for most of the week.

Would I have preferred him to eat a wider variety of foods? Of course. But did it really matter? Not really. He was eating enough. He was happy. As parents, sometimes we have to let go of the picture-perfect version of a holiday we imagined.

Because then there were the moments I’ll never forget. Watching him splash around in the swimming pool with the biggest smile on his face. Seeing him build sandcastles on the beach. Listening to him laugh as the waves chased him back across the sand. Those moments made every worry beforehand worthwhile.

Taking the first step

Travelling with an autistic child isn’t always easy, and it certainly isn’t the same as travelling before becoming a parent. Plans may change, routines may need adapting, some days will be harder than others. For some children, travelling abroad may simply not be the right choice right now. That’s okay too. Every family is different.

But if you’re a parent who dreams of taking your child on holiday and wonders whether it’s possible, I’d gently encourage you not to give up on that dream before you’ve had the chance to explore what might work for your family. You don’t have to start with a plane, you don’t have to book two weeks abroad. Maybe it’s one night away. Maybe it’s a weekend by the coast. Maybe it’s visiting an airport just to watch the planes.

Every small step builds confidence – for your child and for you. It also helps you understand what your child can cope with.

When I think back to that conversation at the school gates, I often wonder if that mum ever managed to take her son away. I hope she did. Not because every family should travel abroad, but because I hope she realised that there isn’t just one way to have a successful holiday. Sometimes success isn’t measured by how far you’ve travelled. Sometimes it’s simply having the confidence to take that very first step.