[ DISCOVERY · THE DISPATCH ]

Multigenerational Trips Are Booming and the 'Skip-Gen' Twist Is the Real Story of 2026

Everyone keeps telling me multigenerational travel is the big family thing now. Sure. But the part nobody's saying out loud? Grandparents are quietly ditching the middle generation and just taking the grandkids. It's called skip-gen, and it's the real story.

Skip-gen grandparent grandchild travel is the thing I keep noticing in airport lounges, and once you see it you can’t unsee it. A grandmother. A seven-year-old. No parents anywhere. Just the two of them, splitting a cinnamon roll, the kid colouring while grandma reads something on her phone with the brightness turned all the way up.

Multigenerational travel is having its moment, yes. The travel desks have been saying it for two years. Three generations, one villa, everybody together. Lovely on paper. But the version that’s actually exploding isn’t three generations crammed into a rental. It’s grandparents and grandkids, alone, parents waving from the driveway.

And honestly? It makes complete sense.

Think about where the resources sit. The grandparents have the time — retired, or close to it. They’ve got a bit of money set aside that they would genuinely rather spend on a week in Lisbon with a grandkid than leave gathering dust. And — this is the part people miss — they’ve got the patience back. The frantic years of raising their own kids are decades behind them. They are not tired in the same way new parents are tired.

The parents, meanwhile, are drowning. Two jobs, a mortgage that doubled, no spare PTO. The idea of planning a “relaxing” family trip with a toddler makes them want to lie down.

So the grandparents step in. Take the kid. Give the parents a week back. Everybody wins, and the kid gets a slab of one-on-one attention they’ll remember for the rest of their life.

The first time I really got it was watching my own mum with my niece in Seville. My sister had stayed home — work thing. Mum and the kid spent six days doing absolutely nothing efficient. They watched the same fountain in Plaza de España for like forty minutes. They ate ice cream twice before noon. My sister would never have allowed that. And that was exactly the point.

Here’s where I get opinionated, because most of the advice out there is fluff.

First: pick a destination with low friction. Skip-gen is not the trip for a 14-hour flight with two connections and a visa form. Think direct flights, walkable cities, decent healthcare, and a time zone that won’t wreck a small kid. Portugal, Italy, the UK if you’re coming from Europe. For Americans, somewhere in the Caribbean or a non-stop to a flat, sunny city. Lisbon is a personal favourite for this — flat-ish, cheap pastéis de nata (around €1.30 at most cafés, more like €1.50 at Pastéis de Belém and worth the queue once), trams that feel like a ride.

Second: the legal bit nobody enjoys. If you’re crossing a border with a child who isn’t yours, carry a signed letter of consent from the parents — name, dates, your details, an emergency contact. Some airlines and border officials will ask, most won’t, but the one time they do and you don’t have it is a genuinely bad day. I’ve seen a grandfather pulled aside at Gatwick for exactly this. He had the letter. Took two minutes. The family two spots back did not have one.

Third — and this is the one I’d tattoo on people — sort out travel insurance that actually covers the child as an independent traveller. A lot of family policies assume a parent is present. Read the small print. Call them. Ask the awkward question: “if my grandson breaks his arm and I’m the only adult, are we covered?” Get the answer in writing.

Money and bedtime. That’s it, those are the two flashpoints, and you settle them at the kitchen table before anyone packs.

Money: agree what’s a “yes” and what’s a “no.” Grandparents are notorious soft touches — that’s half the appeal for the kid — but a week of unlimited gift-shop spending teaches a six-year-old nothing good and drives the parents up the wall when they get home. My mum’s system: one souvenir per city, kid’s choice, and they had to wait until the last day to decide. Genius, actually. Turned shopping into a week-long game instead of a daily fight.

Bedtime: pick a number and let the grandparent break it a little. Holidays are for late nights and gelato at 9pm. Just don’t return a feral, sleep-shattered child to two exhausted parents and call it a gift.

One more thing. Take the photos, obviously, but put the phone down for the big moments. The kid will not remember the photo. They’ll remember that grandma let them stay up to watch the street performer with the puppets, and that nobody told them to hurry up. That’s the whole thing. That’s what you’re actually buying.

I think skip-gen is going to be the family-travel story of the next few years, and not because some trend report said so. It’s because the maths finally lines up — time, money, patience all in the same generation — and because a kid and a grandparent left alone together do something that a busy parent, however loving, just can’t replicate. Slowness. Undivided attention. A whole week where the kid is the most important person in the room.

Book the trip. Set the two rules. Bring the letter.

Take the grandkid. Leave the parents. They’ll thank you for the silence, and the kid will thank you for the rest of their life.

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