When Your Toddler Wants to Go to Hawaii

Some mornings begin with coffee.

Mine began with a full-blown meltdown.

As I was getting ready to leave for my hair appointment, my 5-year-old decided today was the day he needed a vacation. Through the tears I asked him, “What’s a vacation?”

Without hesitation he answered, “I want to get on a plane and go to Hawaii!”

Hawaii.

Not the park.

Not Grandma’s house.

Not even the beach.

Hawaii.

Now mind you… this is the same little boy who barely makes it through the drive to Paramus without asking, “Are we there yet?” But somehow he was already planning tropical vacations.

I tried to reassure him, gave hugs, and explained that we couldn’t just hop on a plane today. None of it mattered. As I walked to my car, I could still hear him crying.

And that’s when the mom guilt showed up.

By the time I picked up my mom, I was sitting in the car secretly searching flights to North Carolina and Florida for a weekend getaway. In my head I was already trying to figure out how we could make it work.

Because isn’t that what moms do?

We carry their disappointment almost as heavily as they do.

Thankfully, my mom gently talked me back to reality—and probably saved me a few hundred dollars.

She laughed and said, “Girl, he won’t even remember getting on an airplane.”

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe she’s not.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my son, it’s that he remembers everything.

If I can’t remember where I left my keys or my coffee, he’ll look at me with the most serious face and ask,

“Mommy… what’s wrong with your memory? Did you lose it?”

Excuse me, sir.

I’ve been keeping track of your shoes, your dinosaurs, your snacks, your doctor’s appointments, your endless questions, and approximately 7,000 random thoughts every single day. My memory isn’t gone—it’s just a little… overcrowded.

Parenthood is funny like that.

One minute you’re trying to calm a tiny human who desperately wants to fly to Hawaii, and the next you’re convincing yourself to book a spontaneous trip because hearing your child cry hurts your heart more than you’d like to admit.

Children have a way of making us want to give them the whole world.

The truth is, they don’t always need the plane ticket.

They need our love.

They need our presence.

They need someone who listens to their big dreams, even when those dreams are much bigger than the family budget.

Maybe one day we’ll make it to Hawaii.

Until then, we’ll keep making memories on the ordinary days—in car rides to Paramus, weekend adventures close to home, bedtime conversations, and moments that remind me that being his mom is the greatest journey I’ve ever been on.

And if he asks again tomorrow about Hawaii…

I’m hiding my phone before I start looking up flights.