Why 11 Is the Perfect Age to Travel With Your Kid%%sep%% %%sitename%%
There is a moment as a parent when you go from “taking the kids on a trip” to traveling together. For me, that moment came 400 feet in the air over Grace Bay in the Turks and Caicos.
I, the fearless cool mom that I am, had booked a parasailing excursion for my 11-year-old daughter and me. This, despite my crippling anxiety that should have led me toward tamer options (the clear kayak through the mangroves, perhaps?). So there we were, dangling from a parachute high above the turquoise water, when I lost my cool.
And you know what happened?
My daughter talked me down. Or, rather, up. Since I was the one who wanted to go down, and she was the one who convinced me not to signal to our driver way down below to rein us in.
We survived, of course. And it was, naturally, one of the best memories from our five-day trip to the island, because it was the first of many moments when I started to wonder if 11 might just be the best age to travel with kids.
After all, 11 is that age past play places and diaper bags but before teenage angst and “Go away, mom” eye rolls. The hotel TV doesn’t have to be tuned to Disney Junior and Jake and the Never Land Pirates anymore. We can watch Shark Tank! And The Bachelor! Together! Then sleep in without mom guilt over skipping breakfast.
We spent five days traveling together, splitting our stay between the Grace Bay Club on the island’s iconic Grace Bay Beach and South Bank Resort on the other side of Providenciales.
It was enough time to discover the island. More importantly, it was enough time to discover there’s a lot to love about traveling with an 11-year-old. Here’s why:
11 is young enough to play, but old enough to hang
She was still young enough to collect conch shells on the beach and want her mom beside her—but old enough to snorkel the Turks and Caicos barrier reef, ride a horse through the ocean, and sit across from me at dinner ordering sushi like an actual travel companion.
I wasn’t dragging an 11-year-old along on things I wanted to do or dropping her off to do things designed for kids. We were doing things together. Real, bucket-list things that I’d gone my whole life without doing.
11 is independent enough to give mom some freedom
This may not work for every kid or every family, but I felt totally comfortable leaving my daughter in our room watching TV while I had a tennis lesson, grabbed breakfast (she likes to sleep in), or went for a solo walk.
11 is old enough to be adventurous
Parasailing, snorkeling the reef, horseback riding through the ocean, paddleboarding—we weren’t limited by height requirements, stamina, or fears of trying something new. More often than not, she was the one ready to go, and I was the one who had to be brave enough to say yes. (Did I mention the high-speed tubing?)
11 is still young enough to think everything is cool
A conch shell can still be a treasure. A turtle swimming by is still thrilling. Riding a horse into turquoise water is legitimately magical. There’s no teenage meh, yet.
11 is old enough to appreciate the good stuff
The beautiful hotel room? Amazing. The view? Loved it. A great restaurant with sushi and filet mignon? Absolutely appreciated. And because she’s a child of the social media generation, she even made her own ridiculous Instagram room tour to show off our over-the-top three-story villa (humblebrag).
By the tween years, you’re no longer spending money on an amazing experience only to have your kid throw a tantrum or complain when you want to turn off the TV to go outside.
11 still wants to be with mom
At 11, there might be a few moments when your child is utterly embarrassed by some small thing you do (apparently, for my daughter, it’s when I try to talk about anything “trendy” that anyone else is wearing). But for the most part, she still wants to hang out with me.
My daughter was THRILLED to be on vacation solo with me. She’ll still hold my hand when we walk together, and she still wanted to sleep in my bed even though our villa had two full bedrooms.
And because I know that any day now, one of those times will be the “last time,” I’m soaking up every one I get.
11 is old enough to remember it
I took my kids to Disneyland nearly a dozen times before they were 7, and they won’t remember a thing. And I think: Why did I bother?
At 11, this isn’t a vacation she’ll know only through photographs. She’ll remember how we got through that parasailing peril by belting Broadway show tunes into the sky (“Defying Gravity” was oddly appropriate). There’s something pretty wonderful about knowing the memories I’m making with her now will actually be hers, too.
11 is young enough to be silly with you
At dinner one night, my daughter couldn’t stop making silly faces at the table. So I joined in. Sure, it was a nice restaurant, but somewhere between courses we invented a ridiculous face that can now break her out of a bad mood every time.
11 travels lighter
Buh-bye, diaper bag. No snacks for every possible emergency. No stroller, floaties, car seats, toilet seat attachments, or cartoonish boo-boo packs stuffed into my purse. And no designing the day around naps or hearing “I’m tiiiiiired” after walking three blocks. Just freedom.
Well, freedom and an iPad for the plane.
11 will actually try the food
We shared the spicy tuna on crispy rice, and now it’s her new favorite. She discovered she LOVES virgin piña coladas—especially by way of a swim-up bar. There were no kids’ menus to hunt down or emergency chicken nuggets required. We could actually go out to dinner together and order things we both wanted to eat.
11 is old enough to share your world but young enough to let you into theirs
On our last night, our dinner turned unexpectedly serious. Her hair was still bristled with salt water and her cheeks were watermelon pink from the sun when she looked across the table at me and blurted out:
“Let’s tell each other something we’ve never told anyone before.”
And so we did.
We talked about things I won’t share here, because they belong to her. And to us. And that’s when I knew: somewhere in those five days, between the parasailing and the horseback riding, the conch shells and the filet mignon, something had shifted. We’d had adventures we never could have had together when she was 5, and moments of closeness I know may be harder to come by when she’s 15.
Maybe that’s the magic of 11. For this brief little window, she’s old enough to go anywhere with me—and still young enough to want me to come along.
Note: We were hosted at the Grace Bay Club and South Bank Resort, and both were every bit as luxurious and amazing as they sound. That said, the complimentary stays did not influence the opinions or experiences shared in this story.
