Our boys love picking out luggage that matches their personalities. On this trip we went with Dinosaurs and glow-in-the-dark Star Wars.

Traveling with kids? It’s never totally smooth—and honestly, that’s kind of the point. Whether they’re five months or fifteen, bringing your kids along for the ride means more planning, more patience, and definitely more snacks than should ever be packed into one backpack. There are groggy airport transfers, jetlagged tears (sometimes yours), and the ever-present risk of a meltdown—over anything from a tangled headphone cord to the injustice of no Wi-Fi. And still? I’d do it again tomorrow.

Because here’s what we’ve learned: the rewards always outweigh the hiccups.

When our kids were little, I used to worry about what people would think. Will they judge us if our baby cries on the plane? Will they side-eye our preschooler’s goldfish explosion in row 17C? Probably. But also? Every flight has a crying baby, a grumpy teen, or someone loudly eating tuna. You’re not alone. We recently sat behind a toddler who scream-sang a TV jingle for eight hours. (It’s still echoing in my brain.) And guess what? Everyone survived.

Roman’s first long-haul flight—where he proudly serenaded the cabin for most of the journey. The parent guilt was real, but so is this truth: it’s part of travel, and it shouldn’t stop you. Most people get it—and the memories are worth it.

Those moments don’t define the trip.

What does stay with you? The giggles as a monkey swipes a banana off your kid’s head. The belly laughs when an ice cream vendor pulls a magic trick mid-scoop. The wide-eyed wonder as your kids explore cave homes in Cappadocia or chase goats through a field in rural Kenya. The late-night conversations over unfamiliar food, when they ask questions you didn’t know they were carrying.

Travel is about real, imperfect, often hilarious moments. That’s the good stuff.

Start with the Journey—Even If It’s 20 Hours Long

Long flights, missed connections, weird layovers—they’re all part of it. The key? Frame the travel itself as part of the adventure.

Before our flight to Vietnam—a 24-hour journey door to door—we braced for disaster. But we leaned into the fun: everyone picked movies, we hyped the airplane meals like they were five-star dining, and we built in time to rest—in the form of our younger son putting on his airline-provided “fancy slippers” and declaring the cabin lighting “romantic,” and our older one sleeping like a rock only to wake up asking for biscotti biscuits. Go figure.

We’ve learned that when kids of any age feel like part of the plan—not just passengers to be managed—they show up differently. Airlines like Turkish, Qatar, and Emirates have gone out of their way to welcome our boys—offering activity kits when they were little, and hot towels and earbud upgrades as they got older. It makes a difference.

There’s always an epic battle between our two over who gets the window seat. This time Archer got first dibs.

Jetlag Will Humble You. Let It.

Whether your kid is in kindergarten or high school, jetlag is an equalizer. Everyone gets cranky. Everyone hits a wall.

We tell our kids up front: “You might feel off. You might want to snap at someone. That’s normal.” And then we build in space. First days are always light—no tight schedules, no pressure to enjoy it all immediately. Sometimes we chase whatever sparks their curiosity: a weird candy, a historic site, a street musician. Sometimes we just wander and eat carbs.

If dinner ends in tears or someone passes out in their spaghetti, we pivot. Early bedtime. No guilt. Sleep aids (when safe and appropriate) have absolutely saved us—because nobody needs to be a hero at 3 a.m.

Mealtime: It’s Not Just About What’s on the Plate

Food is often a battleground—but it can also be a highlight, especially as kids grow and start to take ownership of their experience.

Even now, our kids still rave about hotel breakfasts. When they were little, it was the novelty of croissants and dumplings on the same plate. Now, it’s discovering what “breakfast” means in different countries—porridge in Kenya, Turkish delight in Istanbul, Pho for breakfast in Vietnam. Roman quizzes me before each trip: “What’s breakfast like in Cambodia?”

And sometimes, it’s about the moment more than the food. Archer once put on traditional Vietnamese clothes for dinner and sipped Fanta from a wine glass like it was Dom Pérignon. It wasn’t about what he ate—it was about how he felt.

We always try to let the kids know in advance that trying new foods is part of the adventure. We don’t force it, but we do encourage them to take a bite—even if it’s just one—and to expect some surprises. And just as importantly, we model that behavior ourselves. I’ve eaten things on these trips I never would have chosen at home (hello, cheese older than my marriage), and I do it with curiosity and a little theatrical flair—because they’re always watching. We’ve taken cooking classes together, asked strangers about ingredients in the market, and made an event out of street food stalls. Not every bite is a hit, but it’s all part of the story. When you treat food as a cultural gateway instead of a checklist, even picky eaters can start to see meals as a highlight, not a hurdle.

Let Them Embarrass You a Little (It Means They're Learning)

One of the most profound parts of travel is watching your kids—of any age—step into a new culture, ask questions, and figure things out.

Built by the village mamas using dung and other natural materials, these traditional huts come together through the hands of many—often with neighbors and friends pitching in. It’s a communal effort rooted in resilience and care, and we were honored to be welcomed into it, even for just a short while.

In Kenya, we stayed overnight in a remote Maasai village. No cell service, no hot water, no distractions. And yet, the boys thrived. They chased goats, played soccer in the dust, and laughed harder than they had in months. We watched them truly see another way of life. And yes, Archer did proudly observe, “Being a Maasai warrior must be awesome—because the women do all the work.” Not exactly culturally sensitive, but it opened the door to a real conversation.

Dressed in traditional Maasai shukas and beaming with pride, the boys were invited to join the ceremonial dances—an unforgettable welcome into a community that shared its culture with open arms and full hearts.

And that’s the thing—you will be embarrassed. Your teen might say something tone-deaf. Your eight-year-old might wrinkle their nose at a sacred dish. But the alternative is shielding them from the world. When you travel, you get to guide them through those moments instead.

We left that night with new names—Oloshipa and Kakenya—given to the boys by firelight, under stars so bright it felt like a dream. They still use them proudly. Those are the memories that stick.

Maasai naming ceremony by the campfire—each name spoken three times to make it official, as tradition calls for. In the background, the low roar of lions echoed through the night. Magic, in every sense.

It Takes Effort—But It’s Worth It

Traveling with kids of any age is more work. You pack more, worry more, and manage more emotions per hour than seems possible. But what you get in return is the kind of connection and growth that’s hard to replicate at home.

You get to hear your teen say “thank you” in a language they just learned. You get to watch your child marvel at ruins, ask deep questions about history, or befriend a stranger over soccer. You get to see them carry those experiences back home—and let it shape who they’re becoming.