Simple Pleasures for the Sippy-Cup Crowd

Since we wanted to keep it simple and maximize the amount of fun and relaxation we could have while staying close to a refrigerator stocked with sippy cups, we spent the biggest chunk of our vacation money on accommodations. We had decided that a hotel would be too constraining -- without being all that cheap. Spending $200 to $300 per night for two suites (for our family and my wife's parents) would add up.

We also worried that if we spent a week in a hotel, we would feel compelled to drive somewhere every day -- to pricey theme parks, crowded public beaches or fancy restaurants where the kids would spurn the complicated food -- just to keep from going crazy. We decided we would rather spend that money to rent a nice place where we would not feel pressured to rush out the door.

In the end, we settled on a $2,500 waterfront townhouse with four bedrooms (two of them with king-size beds) and a large, well-equipped kitchen in a gated community in Leucadia, 30 miles north of San Diego. We booked it three months in advance and rented a minivan for the week ($400).

With a big airy home base (one that was filled with the sound of surf) it was easy to establish routines that Lucinda and Arno could find comfort in. There was, of course, a price to pay: We were far away from downtown San Diego -- and its restaurants, museums and shops. But the kids did not care and neither did we. When they are older, we will come back and be sophisticated.

The truth is that much of our vacation, the parts that seemed to make our kids most happy, could have occurred in any beach community where the sun is warm and the breezes gentle. This is a truth that more travelers with young kids should grasp, I think, before buying those tickets for Bali.

With the surf pounding outside our open bedroom window, the kids joined me in bed for a dramatic reading of "Ms. Frizzle's Adventure: Medieval Castle," while my wife escaped by herself to the beach.

Every morning shortly after dawn, a time when Arno likes to wake up and demonstrate his hollering skills, he and I went exploring. We discovered the Leucadia Donut Shop, a '50's-era roadside emporium of caloric excess. At sticky tables, I drank cheap coffee and devoured the Los Angeles Times. Arno sat beside me, smeared a chocolate sprinkle doughnut over much of his face, chugged milk and jabbered with sugar-charged confidence about world affairs as he knows them: pirates, swords, orcas and mankind's urgent need to eat just one more chocolate sprinkle doughnut.

Within the gated community, we took long, lazy trips on foot to a well-heated pool. We whacked a tennis ball around empty courts. We made sand castles on the beach and exposed our pale Seattle feet to the cold California surf. There was a gas barbecue at the condo, and we cooked mostly kid stuff -- hot dogs and burgers.

The presence of grandparents allowed my wife and me to read --yes, actually read -- books in the same dwelling with kids who were not unconscious. That presence also allowed us to make periodic prison breaks. The most memorable was dinner in nearby Cardiff. At Charlie's by the Sea, the sea bass is excellent. We sat at a table that looked out on the Pacific, with wet-suited surfers silhouetted in light that faded from yellow to red to gunmetal gray.

We did, of course, get in the minivan and partake of the "family fun" that lured us to San Diego. Our first trip was to SeaWorld, the marine mammal park, and it was a decidedly mixed experience.

We had budgeted for the considerable expense: $230 for four adults, parking and one child. (Arno got in free.) And we were all impressed by the professionalism of the sea lions, dolphins and orcas, each performing in their own stadiums with skilled, fit and informative handlers.

But for first-time visitors with kids in tow, SeaWorld was confusing and stressful. We struggled through large crowds (on a Monday, no less) to find seats in the right stadium at the proper time. At midday, between the sea lion and dolphin shows, as we tried to eat the sandwiches and fruit slices we'd prepared that morning in the condo, we discovered that SeaWorld had thoughtfully provided . . . virtually no place to sit down.