Little Babog Family There’s a moment, about an hour into any journey with a toddler, when you question your life choices. Snacks have been launched into the abyss of the backseat. A single sock is missing. And the GPS says you still have two hours to go.
And the little babog (that’s our word for “little baby” in Irish) spots a butterfly. Or a puddle. Or a donkey. And their whole world lights up.
[Insert destination, e.g., The Algarve, Portugal / Lake District, UK]
But we wouldn’t trade it for a single, quiet, baby-free resort stay.
They fell asleep in the carrier during a cliff walk. The local market had fresh strawberries. A stranger helped us fold the stroller without being asked.
