We’ve just come back from a short family holiday. It wasn’t our first screen-free one, and it definitely won’t be the last.
No flights this time, just five hours in the car each way and a few days exploring somewhere new. And you know what? It actually worked. No major meltdowns. No devices. Just us.
To be fair, the kids are getting used to this now. They read in the car and managed the long drive better than I expected. We’ve had our share of car dramas before, so getting through it peacefully felt like a real win.
What went well (besides surviving the drive)
Most of the time, the kids were outside. They’d wake up asking to go to the playpark or launch their glider plane. Some mornings, they just wandered out to kick a ball. It was simple, unstructured, and kind of perfect.
During the days, there was sea and sand and salt in their hair. They swam, jumped waves, caught tiny sea creatures in nets, and built sandy constructions. They played. Not with apps. Not with screens. Just with what was in front of them.
Sure, we still heard “Can I have this?” every time we passed a shop, but in between those moments, we soaked up nature and each other. And honestly, that was enough.
What was different without screens
There’s something that happens when screens are even an option. They become the goal, the reward, the itch. Even in the middle of a lovely day out, you’ll hear, “When are we going back?” or “I’m bored,” because in their minds, home = devices.
This time, the kids did ask for screens a couple of times. But all it took was a calm, clear reminder that it was a screen-free holiday and they didn’t ask again. No whining, no pushback, no bargaining. It was surprisingly smooth.
They even looked forward to going back to our accommodation, not to plug in, but to head straight to the playpark again. That shift alone was worth everything.
Is it always easy? Absolutely not
Especially not in the mornings when all you want is half an hour more in bed and the TV remote is calling your name.
But this time, a travel-sized chess set did the job. And while it didn’t give us peaceful, magazine-perfect mornings, it helped.
We were lucky with the weather, too. British holidays aren’t always kind. When it’s damp and grey, it takes more creativity and patience. Kids are usually happy to get muddy. It’s the adults who don’t fancy chasing a football through a soggy field.
Can screen-free holiday work for everyone?
I believe so. But it’s definitely easier when there’s more than one child. I’ve done screen-free stretches when it was just me and my son, and those days felt long. Beautiful, but intense.
Every moment of entertainment, every “what now?” landed on me. And while it could be draining, it also meant we played more, talked more, connected more. The tantrums reduced. The mood softened.
Because let’s be real, screens don’t meet kids’ needs. They just distract from them. The moment we take the device away, all the unmet needs – attention, connection, presence – bubble straight back to the surface.
Children need to feel seen. They need us. And deep down, we know a screen can’t offer what they’re really looking for.
Are we setting the example we want them to follow?
Now here’s the part we don’t always want to admit.
We tell them no screens, but scroll while they play. We ask them to “enjoy the moment,” while we catch up on emails or check Instagram. We talk about limits, but set none for ourselves.
And I get it. We’re tired. Sometimes the phone feels like the only sliver of time that’s just for us. But our habits speak louder than our rules.
What if, instead of scrolling, we brought a book? A journal? A colouring pad of our own? Not because we have to be off our phones all the time, but because modelling balance is how we teach it.
When we talk about screen limits, we can’t just point the finger. We need to take a kind but honest look in the mirror too.
The bigger picture starts with us
If we want a different dynamic in our homes – less nagging, more presence, fewer meltdowns, more connection – it starts with our behaviour. Not in a “perfect parent” kind of way, but in small, conscious shifts.
Unplugging doesn’t have to mean a full detox or giving up every comfort. But it does mean getting intentional about what matters, and being brave enough to go first.
When we’re more present, children feel it. And they don’t just behave better. They feel safer, more grounded, more connected.
And honestly? So do we.
