After another brutal New York winter we wanted sun, so we picked Tulum, which Jennifer and I had loved on pre-kid trips. January 2017. Henry was 5, Elias was 4. The plan was relaxed, uncrowded, familiar.
Logistics: JetBlue out of JFK, reserved parking. Lightweight, narrow travel car seats designed for getting through airports without dislocating a shoulder. Straps that turn a roller bag into a stroller. With small kids, these little pieces of gear are the difference between a vacation and an ordeal.
Casa Violetta was our base — middle of the beach, expat-owned, more authentic than amenitized. The on-premise restaurant was good, which mattered for the same reason on-premise dining always matters with small kids: you don’t have to negotiate dinner with people who haven’t slept in a real bed.
Day one was the vacation we’d come for. Another family was staying at the hotel and our kids attached instantly to theirs. The adults — both sets — actually got to sit on the beach. We congratulated ourselves on our brilliant planning.
Day two, the other family checked out, and we discovered our kids were not the kind of kids who entertain themselves on a beach. Without the friend buffer, the beach was an open canvas of “I’m bored.” Casa Violetta had exactly zero kid-focused anything, so we made an emergency run to a big roadside superstore for shovels, buckets, and any plastic object that might hold attention for more than five minutes.
Then there was Henry’s relationship with the ocean. The water in Tulum is body-temperature, glass-clear, and beautiful. Henry decided it was his enemy. While the rest of us swam, he stayed on the sand, sweating, watching the waves like they owed him money. For days. He didn’t relent.
We did Tulum Maya Ruins, which the kids approached with the enthusiasm normally reserved for dental appointments. The food, everywhere we walked to for dinner, was excellent — that part of Tulum delivered as advertised.
The breakthrough came on the last morning. Departure was at 11. We did one last beach attempt, and for whatever reason, Henry walked in. Then he was swimming. Then he loved it. He’d been at the ocean’s edge for a week and broke through with two hours left on the clock. We stretched it as long as we could before sprinting back to shower and catch the ride to the airport.
The thing Tulum taught us was about matching the trip to the stage of family. Jennifer and I both wanted authentic Tulum — the place we’d loved pre-kids, the unpolished version of it. I’d had a quiet feeling beforehand that something family-geared might fit better, but neither of us pushed it. Casa Violetta is lovely. It’s also not the trip a five-year-old who refuses the ocean and a four-year-old with no other kids around actually needs. A pool would have given Henry water on his own terms. A kids’ club would have meant other kids on demand instead of by luck of the booking calendar. Lesson learned. The trip that fits you isn’t always the one that fit the previous version of you.
The Reference Version
The trip. January 2017. Five days in Tulum, Mexico. Two adults, two kids (5 and 4). JetBlue from JFK with reserved JFK parking; rental car on the ground.
Where we stayed. Casa Violetta, middle of the beach. Comfortable, authentic, expat-owned, decent on-premise restaurant. Zero kid amenities — no pool, no kids’ club, no organized activities. Good for couples; a stretch for families with small kids.
Getting there with small kids. Two pieces of gear made the airport days survivable. Lightweight, narrow travel car seats designed for airline use — they don’t displace a real car seat at home, they’re built for the trip. And luggage straps that convert a wheeled bag into a makeshift stroller for the child you didn’t bring an actual stroller for. With reserved parking at JFK, the JFK side of the trip was honestly the easiest part.
What we did. Beach. Tulum Maya Ruins. Beachside restaurants every night.
What worked. The travel gear. The on-premise restaurant. The day another family with kids was there.
What we’d do differently. Pick a place built for small kids at that age. We both wanted authentic Tulum, and that’s what we did, but in hindsight a family-geared spot would have fit the situation better. A pool gives an ocean-averse kid water access on his own terms. A kids’ club guarantees other kids on demand instead of depending on who’s checked in the same nights you are. You can still get authentic Tulum out of one of those — day trips, dinners off-property, the ruins — without making the home base do all the work.
Things to know. Tulum’s water is gorgeous, but small kids may not care, and a pool is real insurance. Restaurant walks along the beach road work well for dinner. The Maya Ruins are a one-morning outing, not a day’s worth. Bring beach toys instead of buying them at the local superstore at twice the price.
Even that's Odd 
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