A quick note on how we work: we researched and compared what’s on the market rather than trialling individual models, so treat this as a buying framework, not a ranked list of brands. Long-time readers may remember us covering modular Scandinavian-style houses, and even a dress-up-your-own-rooms computer program for five-year-olds. The idea underneath hasn’t changed. Kids love building a small world they get to run. What has changed is the amount of choice, and the safety questions worth asking before you hand over the card.

Matching the best dollhouse for kids to their age

Start with age, because it decides almost everything else. A toddler and an eight-year-old want completely different things from the same wooden box.

Under three, look for something chunky and simple. Think a large open-backed house with two or three big rooms, wide doorways and a few oversized figures that can’t be swallowed. Toddlers mostly carry, post and bang things at this stage, so the house is closer to a container than a stage set. If your baby is still mouthing everything, our list of essential toys for a baby’s first year is a better starting point, and the dollhouse can wait.

From about three to five, pretend play takes off. Kids this age narrate constantly. The dog is hungry, the baby won’t sleep, somebody is having a bath in the kitchen. They want enough rooms to sort the story into, but not so many that pieces vanish under the couch. Three or four rooms and a modest set of furniture is plenty.

Between six and nine, detail starts to matter. Opening doors, working stairs, wallpaper you can change and a roof that lifts off all earn their keep. Kids this age often treat a dollhouse as a design project, and they’ll happily spend a wet Sunday rearranging a lounge room. Past ten, finely made miniatures turn into a hobby in their own right, and that’s a different budget altogether.

Honestly, I’d skip the three-storey mansion for anyone under four. It looks wonderful in the shop and gets used like a bookshelf.

Wood, plastic or flatpack: what the material tells you

Wooden houses have the strongest following among parents, and for good reason. They’re sturdy, they survive being dropped and they tend to hand down to a younger sibling without much fuss. The trade-off is weight and price. A solid wooden house can be awkward to move when you’re vacuuming around it, and a good one costs real money.

Plastic houses are lighter and easier to wipe down, which matters if your three-year-old uses the bathroom as a bath for the dinosaurs. Many have clip-together walls and chunky accessories made for small hands. They can look a bit loud in a living room, but kids rarely care about that. Check the plastic doesn’t feel brittle at the hinges, because that’s where cheap ones give up first.

Flatpack MDF or plywood houses sit in the middle. They arrive in a box, take an hour or so to assemble and often come with paintable surfaces, which suits older kids who like to customise. The weak point is the joins. Over-tightened or poorly aligned panels can swell or split, and a house that wobbles is no fun to play with.

If sustainability is on your radar, have a look at our roundups of top wooden toys for little ones and eco-friendly toys on a budget. Secondhand wooden houses are very easy to find and often in good nick, which is the greenest option of all.

Safety checks worth doing before you buy

Toys sold in Australia need to meet mandatory safety rules, and many are also made to the AS/NZS ISO 8124 series, the toy safety standard that covers things like mechanical and physical hazards. Seeing that reference on the packaging is a good sign, though it isn’t a guarantee on its own. The ACCC’s Product Safety Australia site is where recalls and mandatory standards are published, so it’s worth a look if you’re eyeing an unfamiliar brand or buying online from an overseas seller.

Small parts are the big one. Tiny chairs, food, pets and baby figures can all be choking hazards for children under three, and a dollhouse set often comes with dozens of them. If there’s a toddler in the house, even if the dollhouse is meant for an older sibling, plan where the small pieces will live. Kidsafe publishes practical guidance on toy safety for different ages.

Then there’s the stuff you can only spot by picking the house up:

• Splinters, rough edges and sharp corners on cut wood or snapped plastic.
• Paint or lacquer that flakes off under a fingernail.
• Loose magnets in furniture or figures. Swallowed magnets are a medical emergency.
• Battery compartments that open without a screwdriver, especially on houses with lights or doorbells.
• Tall houses that tip forward when a child leans on an upper floor.

Button and coin batteries are the serious one. Australia has mandatory standards for products containing them, but a battery that has been swallowed needs urgent attention. Read the healthdirect advice on poisoning, keep the Poisons Information Centre number (13 11 26) handy and call 000 if a child has swallowed a battery or magnet.

Size, access and where it will actually live

Measure the spot before you order. A house that looks modest online can be a metre wide in a small bedroom, and then it ends up in the hallway where everyone trips over it.

Access matters more than most buyers realise. An open-backed house lets two or three kids play at once from different sides, which suits siblings and playdates. A front-opening house with a latch looks neater and keeps the furniture inside when it’s closed, but only one child can get at it comfortably. Neither is better, it just depends on who’s playing.

Height is the other thing. A house on a low shelf or on the floor is easier for little kids to reach, and it’s more accessible for children who use a wheelchair or have limited fine motor control. If it sits on a table, check the child can see into every room without climbing onto a chair.

Furniture and figures: buy fewer, better

A giant pack of 100 plastic accessories sounds like value. In practice most of it is ignored within a week, and half of it is under the couch. I’d argue a small handful of well-made pieces beats a big bag every time: a bed, a table, a few chairs, a bath, and some figures that can be pushed around without snapping.

Loose parts are also free. Matchboxes become beds, scraps of fabric make rugs and blankets, and a bottle lid is a perfectly serviceable pie dish. Kids who get to invent furniture often play for longer than kids who only use what came in the box.

The figures deserve more thought than the sofas. Look for a mix of ages, skin tones, abilities and family shapes, so the children playing can see their own family in the house or try out a different one. Kmart caused a bit of discussion a while back when it stocked same-sex family doll sets, and the range of figures available has only widened since.

And a gentle reminder that dollhouses aren’t only for girls. Our piece on why you should allow boys to play with dolls covers the nurturing, language and empathy side of this sort of play. Most parents I know have stopped worrying about it anyway.

Modular and expandable houses

The old Babyology page that most of you still try to find was about modular dollhouses, and the idea has aged well. A modular house is built from separate rooms or floors that stack, swap or lock together. You can start with one or two pieces for a small child, then add more as their play gets more elaborate.

It’s a smart way to buy if you’re not sure how the child will take to it. If they love it, you add a kitchen module for a birthday. If they lose interest, you’ve spent less than on a full house, and the pieces are easier to pass on.

The catch is compatibility. Dollhouse scales vary, and furniture or figures from one maker often look oversized or tiny in another’s rooms. Before buying add-ons, check whether the range is designed to work together and whether the maker still sells extra modules. A discontinued system can leave you with a half-finished house.

The other thing worth asking is how the modules connect. Magnets, pegs and simple stacking all work, but each has its own trap. Magnets need to be sealed in, pegs shouldn’t snap under a child’s grip, and plain stacking needs a stable base so it doesn’t slide.

Digital dollhouses and apps

Children’s design programs and apps that let kids decorate a virtual house have been around for years. They’re appealing for kids who love choosing colours and patterns without a mess, and they can be a useful rainy-day extra. They aren’t a replacement for the physical version, though, because a lot of the learning in doll play comes from using hands, voices and the body to act out a story.

If you’re considering an app, check what it asks for. Many free ones are stuffed with ads and in-app purchases. The healthdirect page on the internet and kids is a sensible starting point for screen-time and online safety questions, and CHOICE’s babies and kids section is worth a look for independent product advice.

My view is that a digital dollhouse works best as a planning tool. Let an older child sketch the layout on screen, then recreate it in the real house with whatever’s on hand.

Budget, secondhand finds and keeping it in play

You can spend anywhere from the price of a coffee to the price of a decent second-hand car on a dollhouse, so decide your ceiling first. For most families the sweet spot is a solid, simple house plus a few extras bought gradually, rather than one big set that arrives all at once.

Secondhand is a good option. Marketplace listings, op shops, toy libraries and school fetes regularly turn up wooden houses at a fraction of the new price. Check for wobbly joins, missing pieces and any signs of mould or water damage, and give the whole thing a wipe-down before it goes in the child’s room. If it’s an older house, be wary of flaking paint.

To stop it becoming a dust collector, rotate. Pack away half the furniture and figures for a few weeks, then bring a different set out. Our article on why kids get bored with new toys quickly goes into how a simple rotation can make familiar toys feel new again.

In the end, the best dollhouse for kids is the one that gets pulled into the middle of the room and used for a dozen different stories. If you’re torn between two, pick the simpler one. You can always add to it later.

— The Parents Domain team, Parents Domain

Why we watch celebrity parents in the first place

Let’s be honest, we’re curious. Parenthood is the one job where nobody hands you a manual, and public figures are an easy reference point. When a well-known mum talks about a rotten night or a dad admits he’s winging it, the rest of us get permission to relax. That’s a genuine good. Plenty of us have read a celebrity story at 2am during a feed, just for a bit of company.

There’s a second reason, and it’s less comfortable. We use famous families as a yardstick. Without meaning to, we hold our Tuesday up against their carefully chosen Sunday. I’d argue that’s where most of the harm in this kind of content lives. Not in the stories themselves, but in how we measure ourselves against them.

So the first lesson is simple. Enjoy the story, notice how you feel afterwards, and treat that feeling as information. If you close the app feeling lighter, wonderful. If you close it feeling heavier, that’s your cue to put the phone down, not to go shopping for the linen shirt.

I’ll admit I’ve lost entire evenings to this, and I never once came out of them a better parent. A cuddle with my own kids did more.

The highlight reel is not the whole house

Everything public is edited. That isn’t a criticism of any particular family, it’s just how photos and interviews work. A picture shows the four seconds when everyone was smiling, not the forty minutes of negotiating over socks that came before it. And we genuinely don’t know what happens behind anyone’s front door, so it pays to be careful about judging a stranger’s parenting in either direction.

What we can say is that circumstances differ enormously. Some famous families have a lot of paid help, flexible work and professional hair and make-up on call. Most Australian households are doing drop-off, a full work day, dinner and a bath with two adults at best, or one. If you want a grounded picture of that reality, our piece on a day in the life of working parents is a lot closer to what actually happens in most homes.

When a polished image makes you wobble, try asking three quick questions:

• Who took this, and how many shots did they take?
• What happened five minutes before and five minutes after?
• Who and what is sitting just out of frame?

The answers are rarely sinister. They’re usually just ordinary. And ordinary is the point, because it reminds you that a calm, beautiful family moment is something that happens in patches, even in the most glamorous houses. Nobody lives in the patch permanently.

The honest ones are the useful ones

The most valuable thing public figures do for the rest of us is tell the truth about the hard parts. Fertility struggles, pregnancy loss, a baby who wouldn’t feed, a mood that wouldn’t lift. When someone with a big platform says those things out loud, a lot of people who’ve been quietly coping alone suddenly feel less strange.

We’ve collected some of those stories in celebrities sharing their infertility journeys, and it’s worth a read if you’re in that place right now. Not because famous people have secret answers, but because the loneliness of it softens when you see it named.

A caution, though, and it matters. One person’s account is a story, not a medical plan. What worked, or didn’t, for someone you’ve never met says very little about your own body, your own history or your own options. For anything personal, your GP, midwife or child and family health nurse is the right first stop, and healthdirect is a solid place to check general information while you wait for an appointment.

It also helps to remember that every parenting journey is unique. The brave interview is a gift. Treating it as a template is where we go wrong.

What Dr Jamal Rifi says makes a great dad

Some of the best parenting wisdom I’ve come across didn’t come from a red carpet at all. Dr Jamal Rifi was named Australia’s Father of the Year in 2015, and on the old Babyology podcast he reflected on his own childhood and what makes a great dad. He’s known for his community work, including involvement with Muslim Doctors Against Violence and the Christian-Muslim Friendship Society, so the natural question was what in his upbringing shaped that generosity.

His answer centred on his own father and the values he absorbed growing up, and on the values he has tried to pass on to his children. I won’t put words in his mouth beyond that, but the shape of the idea is worth sitting with. Kids rarely absorb a speech. They absorb what the adults around them do, week in and week out, especially when nobody’s watching.

That’s the quiet lesson in a lot of public-facing parents who seem to get it right. The famous bit of their life is the job. The parenting is the pattern underneath: how they treat people who can’t do anything for them, how they apologise, what they refuse to compromise on.

The Shepherd Centre runs Father of the Year awards, and the old page invited readers to nominate a dad. Check the Shepherd Centre’s website for how and when nominations currently open. It’s a lovely way to say thanks to a father, grandfather or carer who’s done the unglamorous work of showing up.

Baby names, lookalikes and the fun stuff

Not every lesson needs to be serious. Part of the pleasure of celebrity families is pure entertainment, and I see no harm in that. Baby names are the classic example. Everyone has an opinion, and a famous child’s name becomes a national talking point within hours.

If you want to play, our list of 100 celebrity inspired baby names is a fun starting point, and the readers’ verdicts in most disliked celebrity baby names are a good reality check. Between the two you’ll get a decent feel for how names land with strangers.

My own take, and you can disagree: choose the name you’ll still love saying at the top of your lungs across a park. A name that feels brave on day one can feel heavy by Year 3, and a name that’s trendy this year will have a school cohort of five by next. Fame is a poor guide either way.

Then there’s the pure sweetness of family resemblance. We’ve rounded up celebrity parents twinning with their kids, and it’s the kind of scroll that makes you check your own toddler’s chin. Enjoy it for what it is. Just don’t mistake it for advice.

Where famous families can’t be your guide

Here’s where I get firm. A nursery in a magazine shoot is not a safety endorsement. A cot styled with a gorgeous bumper, a soft toy and a muslin wrap looks lovely and is not what Australian safe sleep guidance recommends. Red Nose’s safe sleeping advice is the benchmark here, and it’s worth rereading before each new stage, because the guidance covers things like bedding, sleep position and sleep spaces in detail.

The same goes for products. A pram, car seat or carrier photographed with a famous family has simply been photographed. In Australia, child restraints are covered by the standard AS/NZS 1754, and product safety is overseen by the ACCC, so check current requirements and recalls rather than trusting a glossy image. Our friends at CHOICE’s babies and kids section are a useful independent starting point for comparing gear.

Screens are another one. Famous kids appear online constantly, and it can make heavy sharing feel normal. It’s a reasonable moment to think about your own family’s approach to photos and devices, and healthdirect’s guide to the internet and kids is a calm, practical read.

If you ever have a worry about your baby’s health, sleep or development, skip the celebrity anecdote and speak to your GP or child and family health nurse. That’s their job, and they know your child.

Borrowing the good bits for your own house

So what’s actually worth taking? I reckon four things travel well from public families into ordinary Australian ones.

1. Say the hard thing out loud. Whether it’s tiredness, grief or a rough patch, naming it early is nearly always better than carrying it silently.
2. Let values show up in small actions. Thanking the bus driver, helping a neighbour, owning a mistake. This is the Jamal Rifi lesson in practice.
3. Protect your kids’ privacy. Many famous parents are careful about what they share of their children, and that restraint is worth copying, even if you only have 80 followers.
4. Make your own rituals. Friday pancakes, a bedtime song, the walk to the corner shop. They cost nothing and they stick.

None of those need a budget or a stylist. And the best source of ideas often isn’t a stranger at all. Our reflections in how our mums teach us and what my kids teach me every day are reminders that the real teachers are already in your house, or in your own childhood.

One more thing worth borrowing is the willingness to laugh. The parents who seem happiest, famous or not, tend to be the ones who can find the funny in a spilled bowl of spaghetti. It won’t fix a sleepless week, but it takes the edge off.

When the comparison starts to hurt

Sometimes the scroll stops being harmless. If you notice that images of other families leave you flat, anxious or ashamed for days, take that seriously. It might be tiredness. It might be something more, particularly in pregnancy or the first year after a birth, when perinatal anxiety and depression are common and very treatable.

PANDA supports parents through pregnancy and early parenthood, and Beyond Blue’s family and relationships resources are a good place to read more. If you’d like to talk to someone about everyday parenting stress, Parentline is there too. Your GP can also help you make a plan, and in an emergency call 000.

There’s nothing weak about asking. The famous parents who talk openly about getting support are often doing the most useful thing in their whole public life, because they make it a bit easier for the rest of us to pick up the phone.

So go on, enjoy the baby-name debates and the lookalike photos. Take the honest stories to heart, and let the glossy ones wash past. Your family doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s. It just needs you, a bit of grace, and a good hug at bedtime.

— Suzie Whitlock, Parents Domain

Why dancing with kids is worth the sticky floor

Kids don’t need a reason to dance. Adults do, so here are a few. The Australian 24-Hour Movement Guidelines for the Early Years, which cover children from birth to five, ask for plenty of active play across the day, and for toddlers and preschoolers that adds up to around three hours of movement in total. Three hours sounds enormous until you remember it includes every run to the letterbox, every climb on the couch and every wobbly spin in the hallway. Dancing counts. A ten-minute burst is a decent contribution on a wet day when the park is off the table. Check the current wording of the guidelines on the Department of Health website, because the details differ by age.

The physical side is only half of it. Dancing together is close, silly and face to face, and it gives a cranky child somewhere to put big feelings that doesn’t involve lying on the floor of the supermarket. It works as a reset for the grown-up too. Two songs in, most of us have stopped scrolling and stopped thinking about the washing.

It’s also a handy swap for screen time. If you’re trying to cut back, our list of genius ways to ditch the devices has plenty more ideas, and a dance break slots into most of them. Put the song on, put the phone face down, and see how long the quiet lasts. Not long, in our experience, and that’s the point.

Slow dancing with babies, held close and held safely

Newborns don’t need a routine. They need you, a steady heartbeat and a slow song. Hold your baby close with their head and neck supported, and sway from side to side the way you probably already do at 3am in the hallway. That’s dancing. Hum or sing along, because your voice is the best part of the soundtrack, and keep the volume low near small ears.

Keep the movement gentle. Slow sways and soft steps are plenty. Never jiggle, swing or bounce a baby hard, and skip the spinning until they’re much bigger. If you’re using a carrier, follow the maker’s instructions, keep your baby’s face visible and their airway clear, and have a look at the babywearing guidance on the Red Nose safe sleep and baby safety site before you start shuffling around the lounge room with them strapped on.

Once babies can sit, the game changes. Pop them on your lap and bob them to the beat, clap their hands together, or lay them on a rug for tummy time while you do your silliest moves a metre away. Babies watch your face far more than your feet. A big “ooh” mouth and a wiggly eyebrow will earn a gummy grin faster than any footwork. Older babies who are pulling up on the couch will often bounce at the knees the moment music starts, and that wobbly bounce is easily the cutest dance move you’ll see all week.

Toddler dance games that actually hold attention

Toddlers have the attention span of a sparkler and the energy of a kelpie, so short and silly wins. Freeze dance is the classic for a reason. Music on, everyone dances; music off, everyone freezes. Once they’ve got the hang of it, change the rules so the freeze has to be a tree, a sleepy koala or a statue with a very serious face.

An animal parade works beautifully in a small space. Stomp like an elephant, tiptoe like a cat, hop like a kangaroo, wobble like a jellyfish. Action songs do much of the work for you, and Australian parents have a deep bench to draw on, from The Wiggles’ Hot Potato to the sing-along songs on ABC’s Play School. Ribbons, a chiffon scarf or a clean tea towel make good props, though keep anything long away from necks and put it away when the game is over.

Let your toddler lead as often as you can. Follow-the-leader flips the usual power balance, and a child who gets to boss the grown-up around for three minutes is often a calmer child afterwards. It also makes a useful tool when a meltdown is brewing. A sudden “quick, I need help doing the robot” can redirect a mood better than a lecture, and we’ve gathered more of that kind of thinking in our smart moves for toddler tantrum time.

A practical point: clear the floor first, and go barefoot or in grippy shoes. Socks on timber or tiles is a slide waiting to happen.

Routines, dance-offs and showing off for primary-school kids

Somewhere around school age, dancing shifts from wiggling to performing. Your child wants an audience, and you’ve just been cast. This is a good thing. Choose a song together, agree on four or five moves, and put them in order. That is a routine, and the planning is half the fun. Counting beats, remembering a sequence and working out who stands where are small bits of thinking dressed up as a party.

Old-school soul still goes down brilliantly with this age group. Aretha Franklin’s 1967 hit Respect has a chorus kids can spell out and shout, and clips of tiny performers belting it out at recitals have charmed audiences for years. Pick whatever suits your family, though. Today’s chart hits, a favourite from your own childhood, a movie soundtrack, they all work.

Run a family dance-off with house rules: everyone gets a turn, everyone gets applause, and nobody is allowed to mock a sibling’s moves. Hand out silly prizes if you like. Older kids can teach younger ones a step, which is a nice way to turn sibling rivalry into teamwork. If you have a daughter who loves to perform, you might also enjoy our piece on the best things about having daughters, because a lot of those best things happen in the lounge room at full volume.

Dancing while pregnant, with a few sensible rules

A heavily pregnant mum shimmying with her kids is one of the loveliest sights going, and for most uncomplicated pregnancies gentle movement is encouraged. The details are personal, though, so check with your GP or midwife about what suits you. The healthdirect pregnancy pages are a good starting point for general guidance.

Some practical things we’d keep in mind. Your balance changes as your belly grows, and your joints can feel less stable, so choose a flat, non-slip floor and skip anything involving spins, jumps or tight turns. Wear supportive shoes or go barefoot on a grippy surface. Keep a water bottle close, dress in layers, and stop to cool down before you overheat. Stop altogether if you feel dizzy, have pain, notice any bleeding or fluid loss, or are worried about your baby’s movements, and call your midwife, doctor or hospital maternity unit.

Don’t feel you have to keep up with a four-year-old’s energy either. Sit on a chair or fitball and do the arms, the hips and the facial expressions. Your toddler will not care. If you’re juggling a little one while expecting, our honest truths about parenting a toddler while pregnant might make you feel less alone on the days you can’t summon the energy.

Building a playlist the whole house can live with

Here’s a mild opinion: the best playlist is the one your child picks, even when it’s the same song nineteen times in a row. Choice gives kids ownership, and a child who feels in charge of the music is far more likely to join in. Make a deal if it’s wearing thin. Their pick, then yours, then something from a shared list.

A few ways to keep the music working for you:

• Build a short list of upbeat songs for the afternoon slump and a separate slow list for winding down after bath time.
• Check the lyrics of anything you haven’t heard properly. A catchy chorus can hide a verse you’d rather not explain at the dinner table.
• Rotate in songs with built-in actions, since these give shy or unsure kids something to copy.
• Finish every session with a slow one. A slow song brings heart rates down and gives you a cuddle as a bonus.

Keep the volume sensible, especially with babies and toddlers. A speaker on the bench works better than headphones for little ones, and it means everyone hears the same thing and can join in. Some children are sensitive to loud or sudden sound, so start quiet and let them turn it up themselves.

Dads, grandparents and the self-conscious

Plenty of adults freeze at the thought of dancing in front of anyone, even their own kids. We get it. But children aren’t judging your technique, they’re noticing that you showed up and joined in. Dads in particular often have a reputation for the wrestle-and-tickle kind of play, and a good dance is an easy extra to add to the list. If that rings true in your house, why dads need to play together too is worth a read.

If you’ve ever felt like the boring one next to a parent who whips up games without effort, you’re in good company. I’m not the fun parent says it better than we can. Honestly, the fun parent is mostly just the one who goes first and doesn’t mind looking silly. Start with something low-stakes, like a shoulder wiggle while you stir the pasta, and build up from there.

Grandparents can be wonderful dance partners too, whether in person or on a video call. A slow shuffle with Pop is a different sort of magic from a dance-off with Mum.

Some kids won’t want to join in at all, and that’s fine. Let them watch from the couch, offer a role as DJ or judge, or try again another day. Pushing a reluctant child onto the dance floor usually has the opposite effect.

Keeping it safe and private

Lounge-room dancing is low risk, but a few habits help. Move the coffee table, tuck away cords and keep hot drinks out of reach. Be careful when you lift or swing small children. Avoid spinning a toddler by their hands or arms, which can injure elbows, and hold them securely if you’re picking them up. For general advice on home hazards, Kidsafe is a reliable Australian source, and the Royal Children’s Hospital Kids Health Info pages cover what to do when a child does get hurt.

Then there’s the camera. It’s tempting to film the cutest moment, and some of those clips end up being watched by thousands of strangers. Before you post a video of your child anywhere public, think about whether they’d be happy to see it when they’re fifteen. Check your privacy settings, think about who can share it, and ask older kids for their say. The healthdirect page on internet and kids has useful pointers on keeping children safe online. A private clip for the grandparents’ group chat gives you the joy without the audience.

So tonight, put one song on. It doesn’t have to be good, and neither do you.

— The Parents Domain team, Parents Domain

Why furniture tips over onto toddlers

Toddlers don’t see furniture the way we do. To them a chest of drawers is a ladder, a bookcase is a climbing frame and a TV unit is something to haul themselves up on. Pull the bottom drawers out, step on them, reach for the thing on top, and the weight shifts forward past the front feet. A piece that stays put when an adult leans on it can still go over once a child hangs from an open drawer.

TVs are their own problem. Older deep-set sets are heavy, and today’s flatscreens are lighter but sit on narrow feet at the very edge of a unit, so one tug on a cord or a bump from a running toddler is enough.

This isn’t hypothetical. In 2015 a Western Australian toddler, Reef Kite, died when a chest of drawers fell on him. An inquest was told the piece was designed in a way that even an adult would struggle to keep it upright, and his mother campaigned for rental laws to change, hoping to spare other families the same loss. We won’t dwell on the details. We mention it because it explains why we write about a bracket and a few screws with a perfectly straight face.

Kidsafe, the national child safety charity, publishes guidance on furniture and TV tip-overs, and it’s worth bookmarking.

What to anchor in your home

Our rule of thumb is simple. If it’s freestanding and a toddler could climb it or hang off it, anchor it. That covers more than most people expect.

Don’t forget the bits in the middle: a tall lamp, a bar cart, a heavy mirror leaning against a wall. They’re less likely to be fatal, but they fall on small heads all the same.

Anchoring furniture step by step

Most flat-pack pieces come with a restraint kit, and hardware stores such as Bunnings sell anti-tip straps and L-brackets for a few dollars. The kit isn’t the hard part. The right fixing for your wall is, and that’s where people tend to go wrong.

1. Empty it and pull it forward. A lighter piece is easier to move and you can reach the wall behind it.
2. Find the studs. Use a stud finder, ideally one that also detects live wiring, and mark a stud near the top of the piece. Cables and pipes hide in walls, so if you’re unsure, ask a licensed electrician or handyperson.
3. Match the fixing to the wall. Screws long enough to bite properly into a timber stud are best. Brick, block or concrete needs masonry plugs and screws. Plasterboard with no stud nearby needs wall anchors rated for the load, though a stud is always the stronger option.
4. Fix to something solid on the furniture. Attach the bracket to the top frame or a thick panel, not just the thin hardboard back, which can pull straight out.
5. Keep the strap snug. A loose strap lets the piece tilt a long way before it catches.
6. Test it. Put the furniture back, then pull firmly forward at the top. It shouldn’t budge.
7. Reload sensibly. Heavy items low, light items high, and recheck the screws every few months and after any move.

Rigid L-brackets and short fixed ties usually leave less slack than long nylon straps, but either is far better than nothing. Follow the maker’s instructions for whichever you pick.

Securing TVs: mount it or strap it

The most secure option is a wall mount. Choose a bracket rated for your TV’s weight and size, check it matches the mounting pattern (often called VESA) on the back of the screen, and fix it into studs or masonry. A TV on plasterboard with the wrong fixings is arguably worse than a TV sitting on a stand, so if you’re not confident, a qualified installer is money well spent.

If the TV stays on furniture, pull it back so it sits well inside the edge of the unit. Use the strap or bracket supplied for the TV, and anchor the unit itself to the wall, because a strapped TV on a unit that tips is still a falling TV. Make sure the unit is actually rated for the set you’ve put on it.

Then deal with the small stuff. Tidy cables up and out of reach with a cable cover or clips, since a dangling cord is an invitation to pull. Keep remotes, toys and lollies off the top, because anything a child wants up there is a reason to climb. And if you still have a heavy older TV, put it low on a sturdy base, not on a tall stand.

Anchoring furniture when you rent

Renting makes this trickier, and the old Babyology story that prompted this article was partly about exactly that. Many leases require your landlord’s or agent’s permission before you drill into walls. Ask in writing, explain that it’s a child-safety fix, and offer to patch and paint when you leave. A couple of screw holes are cheap to fill.

Rules about what renters can change differ across states and territories, and they have been shifting, so check your state or territory’s tenancy authority for what currently applies rather than relying on us. If you hit a flat no, you still have options:

• Choose low, wide pieces with a low centre of gravity.
• Keep heavy items in the bottom drawers.
• Use a closed door to keep kids out of rooms with unsecured furniture.
• Check whether a piece has its own anti-tip kit, and ask whether a no-drill or minimal-hole fixing is acceptable.

None of these is as good as a screw in a stud. They’re the next best thing while you sort out the paperwork, and they’re worth doing in the meantime.

Room-by-room checks, including the nursery

The nursery is the one people think they’ve covered. A chest of drawers doubling as a change table is popular, and it’s also a tall, loaded piece standing in the room where a crawler will soon be exploring. Anchor it before the baby is mobile, not after. Red Nose safe sleeping guidance covers the cot itself; as a sensible extra, we’d position tall furniture so it could never fall towards the cot.

If you’re redoing a bedroom, our kids’ room ideas are a good prompt to think about layout, since low shelving and a few well-placed anchors go a long way.

In the lounge, check the TV unit, bookshelves and any open shelving. In the playroom, look at storage that a child might climb. In the parents’ room, look at wardrobes and tallboys, because toddlers wander in at 5am and treat everything as fair game.

Then there are other people’s homes. Grandparents, friends and holiday rentals often have heavy, old, unanchored pieces. Mention it kindly, or shut the door on that room and keep little ones with you.

Habits that back up the hardware

Hardware does the heavy lifting, but habits matter too. Put the heaviest items in the bottom drawers, keep tempting things off the tops of units, and teach kids early that furniture isn’t for climbing. Our list of essential safety tips for kids is a useful starting point for those conversations.

Most parents we know have one wobbly bookcase they keep meaning to fix. I’d argue that “it’s too heavy to tip” is the most dangerous sentence in home safety. Weight matters less than where it sits, and an open top drawer moves it fast.

Second-hand and hand-me-down furniture deserves a closer look. Older pieces may have lost their restraint kit or never had one, so add your own fixings. When buying new, check that the piece has anchoring points and a kit, and look at the base: a deep, wide footprint is more stable than a tall, narrow one. Some chests have drawer interlocks so only one drawer opens at a time, which helps, but it’s not a substitute for fixing the piece to the wall. For buying advice, CHOICE’s babies and kids section is worth a look.

It’s one of those jobs that belongs on the must-know list for new parents, right next to the cot and the car seat.

If a piece does fall

If furniture or a TV falls on a child, call triple zero (000) straight away. If it’s safe to do so, lift or tilt the piece off the child, but don’t wait to see how they seem before calling. Follow the operator’s instructions until help arrives.

Even after a smaller fall where a child seems fine, get them checked by a doctor, because head and chest injuries aren’t always obvious at first. The Royal Children’s Hospital Kids Health Info pages are a calm, reliable place to read about childhood injuries, and your GP or child and family health nurse can advise on your own situation.

If your family or someone you know has been through a loss like this, or your kids are asking hard questions, our piece on talking to kids about grief may help.

So, how heavy is heavy enough? Not heavy enough. Take twenty minutes this weekend, walk every room at toddler height, and put a screw in anything that could come down. Then you can stop thinking about it.

— The Parents Domain team, Parents Domain

Why we can’t stop swapping Australian birth stories

Birth is one of the few things almost everyone has a stake in, so the stories travel fast. They’re also how a lot of practical information gets passed along: which questions to ask, what a long labour feels like in the body, what nobody thought to mention about the first week at home.

Back in the early Babyology days we ran plenty of celebrity birth anecdotes, the famous dads with their odd labour-day moments and the footy partners with their pre-hospital beauty routines. Looking back, I don’t think readers wanted the gossip. They wanted proof that somebody else’s big day was also a bit ridiculous. Honestly, that’s still what most of us are after.

One caution, and I’ll say it early. A story is one person’s experience. It isn’t a forecast of yours, and it isn’t medical advice. For the evidence-based picture, the Pregnancy, Birth and Baby labour pages are a good starting point, and your midwife or GP can talk through what applies to you.

The Australian Bureau of Statistics also publishes national births data, which is a nice reminder of how many families are walking this road at the same time as you.

The plot twists nearly every story has

Listen to enough accounts and a pattern shows up. Very few go exactly to plan. Labour starts earlier or later than expected. An induction gets offered. The epidural someone swore off at 20 weeks suddenly sounds lovely at hour fourteen, or a hoped-for natural birth becomes a caesarean. Others are faster than anyone prepared for, with the hospital bag still sitting by the front door.

None of that makes a birth a failure. A caesarean is a birth. An induced labour is a birth. So is the one where you changed your mind three times in an afternoon.

Here’s my small, slightly stubborn opinion: I’m not a fan of the phrase birth plan. I’d argue birth wishlist is more honest, because it tells you and your care team what matters most whilst leaving room for the day to do its own thing. Pick your top three priorities, ask your midwife which of them are flexible, and let the rest go.

If you want a clear run-through of the options before you start writing that wishlist, our piece on understanding your birthing choices is a good place to begin. And for the lighter side, there really are things about labour you will love, which you won’t hear about nearly enough.

Short version: expect the unexpected, and don’t grade yourself on it afterwards.

Home, hospital or birth centre: how the setting shapes the tale

Where a baby is born changes the story more than people expect. In Australia the main options are a public hospital, a private hospital, a birth centre and, for some families, home. Each comes with different routines, different staff and a different feel.

Some public hospitals also offer midwifery group practice, where you see the same small team of midwives through pregnancy and birth. Availability varies a lot by area, so ask your GP or local hospital what’s on offer where you live.

Home birth tends to get the most questions at the dinner table. If you’re curious, we’ve covered what a home birth actually involves and why home births for low-risk pregnancies are discussed the way they are. It isn’t the right choice for everyone, and a good midwife will tell you plainly whether it suits your situation.

For one reader-style account that covers a lot of ground, have a look at this Melbourne teacher’s birth story. And if you’d like a trusted hospital-based overview, The Royal Women’s Hospital has a pregnancy and birth information hub written for Australian families.

Whatever the setting, the common thread in the stories I love is feeling heard. Mums rarely remember the room’s décor. They remember whether someone listened.

The small, odd details that stick

Here’s what surprises me. Ask anyone about their baby’s birth years later and the details that come back first are tiny. The playlist nobody pressed play on. The bag packed with five newborn outfits and no snacks. The sudden, fierce opinion about the temperature of the room. The sort of thing you’d never put in a birth wishlist, which is exactly why it’s so memorable.

Those lighter moments are a big reason celebrity birth anecdotes were so popular once upon a time. A famous mum being fussy about a pre-hospital beauty routine is funny because it’s relatable. Most of us have done something equally unhinged in the name of feeling ready.

Food comes up constantly too. Plenty of mums are surprised at how hungry labour makes them, and there’s ongoing discussion about eating during labour, which we’ve touched on in our piece on eating during labour. Policies and advice vary depending on your health and your hospital, so ask your midwife or obstetrician well before the day.

One practical detail that shows up in nearly every going-home story is the car seat. Your baby needs a correctly fitted, approved restraint, and the Australian standard is AS/NZS 1754. Kidsafe is a good place to check fitting advice before you’re standing in the hospital car park with a very small person and a very large capsule.

And yes, some stories are simply gloriously awkward. If you’re pregnant, read that famous horror story with a cuppa and a sense of humour.

When the story isn’t a happy one

Not every birth story gets told with a laugh. Some mums come out of labour feeling frightened, unheard or out of control, even when everyone says the baby and mum are fine. That feeling is real, and it doesn’t need a dramatic event to justify it.

If that’s you, please know it’s common enough to have a name. We’ve written about birth trauma in more detail, but the short version is that how you experienced the birth matters, not only how it looked on paper. Talk to your GP, your midwife or your child and family health nurse. Many hospitals also offer a debrief where you can go through your notes with a midwife and ask what happened and why.

It’s also worth knowing the signs of perinatal anxiety and depression, which can start in pregnancy or any time in the first year. PANDA has plain-language information on signs and symptoms, and healthdirect covers postnatal depression and where to get help. Beyond Blue is another option if you’d like to talk to someone.

If you ever feel unsafe or think you might harm yourself or your baby, call 000 straight away.

You don’t have to wait for things to get worse before you ask for help. Trust me on this one.

What the stories leave out: the weeks after

Most birth stories end the moment the baby arrives, which is a bit like finishing a film at the opening credits. The days and weeks that follow are where a lot of the real adjusting happens, and mums tell me they wish somebody had warned them.

Bleeding, soreness, swollen everything, exhaustion, and a body that doesn’t look like it did a month ago. Our pieces on what happens to mum after birth and postpartum bodies are honest about all of it. If something feels off, such as heavy bleeding, a fever or severe pain, call your midwife or GP, or use healthdirect’s pregnancy information to work out what to do next.

I’d also say the best gift for a new mum is rarely a gift. It’s a hot meal, a load of washing folded and someone else holding the baby whilst she showers. We’ve put together a list of what new mums truly need after birth.

Feeding stories deserve their own chapter. If breastfeeding is on your mind, the Australian Breastfeeding Association runs support services, and your child and family health nurse can help too.

Who’s in the room

Another thing every birth story answers, without meaning to, is who was there. Partners, mothers, sisters, best friends, doulas, midwives. Some mums want a crowd. Some want one quiet person and a dimmed light.

We’ve looked at what it means to be inviting our mums into the birth room, and it’s a more loaded decision than it first sounds. A mother can be a rock or a worry, and often she’s both. Be honest with yourself about who calms you and who winds you up.

Hospitals set their own rules about how many support people can attend and when, and those rules have changed over the years, so check directly with your hospital or birth centre rather than relying on a friend’s story from last time.

Whoever you choose, brief them beforehand. Tell them what you want, what you don’t, and the one word you’ll use when you need them to speak up for you.

How to tell yours, and how to listen to someone else’s

If you’re about to share your own story, tell the true version, including the boring bits and the bits you’re still working out. Pregnant listeners don’t need a highlight reel, and they don’t need a horror film either. I’d gently suggest skipping the scary details with someone who’s thirty-eight weeks and nervous. Ask first whether she’d like the full version.

If you’re the listener, a few things help:

• Listen first. Let her tell it her way and in her order.
• Skip the comparison. Resist the urge to top her story with yours.
• Don’t volunteer horror stories to someone who’s pregnant unless she asks.
• Name the feelings. Pride, relief, anger and grief can all sit in the same story.
• Ask about recovery, not only the baby.
• Offer practical help, and point her to support if the story is a hard one.

None of this needs to be formal. Most of it is just being a decent friend with a cup of tea.

Birth stories work best as a patchwork rather than a script. Read plenty, from home births to caesareans to ones that surprised everyone, and you’ll see why every parenting journey is unique. For the bigger picture of what comes after, our piece on the real roadmap to parenting is a friendly next step.

So, how did yours go? Put the kettle on, I’ve got time.

— Suzie Whitlock, Parents Domain

Why mum shaming stings so much

Parenting comments hit the bit of you that’s already unsure. Nobody feels fully certain in the first year. You’re making dozens of calls a day on broken sleep, and a stranger’s raised eyebrow lands on top of every doubt you were already carrying.

Timing plays a part too. Comments tend to arrive in the weeks when you’re exhausted, hormonal and still working out who you are as a parent. Words that would bounce off at a barbecue in your twenties stick like Velcro at 3am with a newborn on your shoulder.

Shaming is also sneaky. It arrives as “I’m only saying because I care”, or “In my day we just…”, or “Oh, he’s still not sleeping through?” Sometimes the person honestly believes they’re helping. Other times, and I’ll say it plainly, they’re soothing their own choices by poking at yours. The sting is the same either way, and you’re allowed to name that.

My view is that the real culprit is the league table. Birth, feeding, sleep, weaning, daycare versus home, screens. Every category has a gold-medal version, and anyone off the podium feels it. Yet kids who are fed, loved and kept safe tend to turn out loud and lovely whichever road got them there.

The birth comments nobody asked for

Birth shaming is one of the cruellest versions because it’s about something you couldn’t fully control. A story does the rounds on parenting forums every so often: a mum has an emergency caesarean after a frightening labour, and an old friend tells her it wasn’t a proper birth. The reaction from other mums is almost always horror. Good. It should be.

A birth is a birth. Your baby arrived, and whether that was through a planned caesarean, an emergency caesarean, with an epidural or with nothing but a hospital shower, it was your body and your story. Emergency surgery usually happens for safety reasons, and our piece on why births need emergency c-sections explains some of them. If you’re still processing how it all unfolded, giving birth is never easy might help you feel less alone.

You don’t owe anyone a debate. Try, “I’m just glad we’re both here and healthy, I’m not ranking it,” and then change the subject. If the comment keeps echoing, talk to your midwife, GP or child and family health nurse, and ask whether your hospital offers a birth debrief. The Pregnancy, Birth and Baby website also has calm, reliable labour and birth information if you want to understand what happened on the day.

Feeding, sleep and snack-box judgement

Birth is only the opening round. Feeding comes next, and it’s a minefield. Feed in public and someone sighs. Reach for a bottle and someone else does. Whether it’s expressed milk, formula or a mix, the goal is the same: a fed baby. If you’d like support, the Australian Breastfeeding Association is a good place to start, and your child and family health nurse can talk through formula without anybody needing to wring their hands.

Sleep brings its own commentary. There’s a line worth drawing here. Some of what people say is judgement (“you’re making a rod for your own back”), and some is real safety information. Red Nose publishes six safe sleep recommendations that apply to every family, so check those whatever the aunties say, and then let the rest of the sleep commentary wash past.

Then toddlers arrive and the shaming moves to the lunchbox. We’ve looked at how snack shaming sparks debate at kindy and in the school yard, and I’ll just say a squashed sandwich and a packet of crackers has never ruined a childhood. Bedtime battles get it too. A parent who posts a funny clip of a toddler refusing to stay in bed can be stunned by the pile-on from strangers who weren’t there for the three hours before.

Sorting useful advice from plain judgement

Not every unwelcome comment is shaming, and it’s only fair to be honest about that. If someone points out that your baby’s car seat looks loose, that’s safety. Child restraints in Australia need to meet AS/NZS 1754, and a qualified fitter can check yours. Getting defensive could mean missing something that matters.

Here’s a quick filter. Ask whether it was requested, whether it’s specific, what the tone is and what the person is really aiming at.

Anything that fails most of those can be politely set aside. Anything about safety gets checked with a real source, like your GP, nurse or pharmacist, not with the person who made you feel two feet tall. Take the useful kernel and bin the delivery.

What to say in the moment

Comebacks feel fantastic in the shower the next day. In the moment, short and a bit boring tends to work best. A few I reckon are worth keeping in your back pocket:

• “Thanks, we’ve got a plan that works for us.”
• “Our GP is across it.”
• “Interesting, that wasn’t the way for us.”
• “I’m not up for talking about that today.”
• A smile, then a question about their weekend.

The aim isn’t to win. It’s to end the conversation without handing over any more of your energy. Pausing before you answer helps, and a slow breath or a sip of tea buys you a few seconds. Often the sharp reply drifts off by itself.

If it keeps happening with the same person, name it once, calmly. “When you comment on how I feed him, I feel judged. I’d love us to leave that one alone.” Then you’ve done your bit. Some people adjust, some don’t, and you get to decide how much of your time the ones who don’t receive.

And if you freeze and say nothing, that’s fine too. You can always send a message later, or simply let it go. Not every moment needs a performance, and plenty of the best replies are the ones you never give.

When the judgement comes from family or the internet

Family is harder because you can’t just avoid them and the history runs deep. With grandparents, a united front with your partner helps. Agree beforehand which things are non-negotiable, such as safe sleep, and where you’re relaxed. Our pieces on parenting differences with your mother-in-law and handling an overbearing mother-in-law walk through those conversations. Beyond Blue also has useful family and relationships information for when tension at home starts to drag on.

Online, people say things they’d never say over a back fence. I treat comment sections like weather: acknowledge it, don’t stand in it. Mute, switch off comments, and decide ahead of time that you won’t read replies from strangers. If you share photos or videos of your kids, think about who can see them, and how you’d feel if the post travelled far beyond your friends.

And a small judgement of my own: online mum groups that rule on everyone else’s choices aren’t worth the headspace. If a group leaves you feeling worse every time you open it, leave. There are kinder rooms, and you’ll find them faster than you think.

Looking after yourself when it gets heavy

A one-off comment is one thing. A steady drip of criticism, especially from people close to you, can wear you down, and it often sits on top of tiredness, anxiety or low mood. I’ve definitely spent an evening stewing over a throwaway remark, and I’m not proud of how long it lasted. But if you’ve been feeling flat, teary, panicky or detached for more than a couple of weeks, or you can’t sleep even when the baby does, that’s worth taking seriously.

Perinatal anxiety and depression are common and treatable, and they can affect dads and partners too. healthdirect has a page on postnatal depression, and PANDA explains the signs of perinatal anxiety and depression. PANDA also runs a national helpline for parents, so it’s worth a look at the PANDA website.

Please talk to your GP or child and family health nurse about how you’re going. If you ever feel unsafe or in crisis, call 000.

Being the mum who doesn’t pass it on

The best antidote I know is a friend who gets it. Finding one takes a little effort, and our guide on how to make a mum friend is a gentle place to begin. Once you have them, what good mum friends remind us sums up why they matter so much. If you’re newly postpartum, things new mums need to hear is worth a read on a rough day.

It also helps to catch ourselves. We’ve all felt that tiny flicker of superiority at someone else’s choice, usually when we’re unsure of our own. Swap it for a question. “How’s it going?” does more than any opinion.

So next time someone eyes the dummy in the café, you’ve got options. Smile, say your boring line, finish your coffee. Then, if you spot another mum who looks like she’s had the same treatment, put the kettle on for her.

— Suzie Whitlock, Parents Domain

Nothing here needs beaters, a stand mixer or a fancy tin. Quantities are in metric cups and grams, and oven temperatures are conventional with the fan setting in brackets. These are standard home-baking ratios, and every oven runs a bit differently, so trust the skewer over the timer.

Why a loaf tin is the easiest place to start

A loaf is forgiving. There’s no creaming butter and sugar until pale, no rolling, no chilling dough while a toddler eats the dough. You melt, stir, pour and bake. If the top cracks, nobody cares. If it sinks a little in the middle, you call it rustic.

I’d argue a loaf beats cupcakes for families, and I’ll stand by that. Cupcakes mean liners, a muffin tray, fiddly portioning and then an argument about who got fewer sprinkles. A loaf gets sliced and shared out without any politics at all.

The quantities below suit a standard 20 x 10 cm loaf tin. Check the base size on yours, because tins sold as loaf tins vary a fair bit. Line it with baking paper and leave an overhang on the long sides, so you can lift the whole thing out after ten minutes of cooling. Greasing alone works, but paper means no levering with a knife while everyone hovers.

Self-raising flour does the lifting in these recipes. You can use plain flour plus baking powder, but it’s one more thing to measure when you have helpers, so I keep it simple. One small tip: if your baking powder or self-raising flour has been lurking at the back of the pantry for years, buy fresh. Old raising agents give you a flat, dense loaf and a lot of disappointment.

A sultana and apple loaf with no beaters

This is the one I’d hand to a beginner. It’s moist from the apple, sweet from the sultanas, and it keeps well enough to survive a school-pickup week.

Ingredients

• 1 and a half cups (225 g) self-raising flour
• Half a cup (100 g) brown sugar, firmly packed
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• Three-quarters of a cup (about 120 g) sultanas
• 2 medium apples (about 300 g), grated with the skin on
• 2 eggs
• 125 g butter, melted and slightly cooled
• A third of a cup (80 ml) milk

Method

1. Heat the oven to 180°C (160°C fan) and line the loaf tin.
2. Whisk the flour, sugar and cinnamon in a large bowl, then stir through the sultanas.
3. In a jug, whisk the eggs, melted butter and milk. Stir in the grated apple.
4. Tip the wet mix into the dry and fold until just combined. Lumps are fine.
5. Spoon into the tin and bake for 45 to 55 minutes, until a skewer comes out clean or with a few dry crumbs. If the top browns too fast, cover loosely with foil.
6. Rest in the tin for ten minutes, lift out, and cool on a rack.

For a lemon icing, stir one cup of icing sugar with one to two tablespoons of lemon juice until it drizzles. Wait until the loaf is completely cool or the icing will slide straight off. Skip it if you like. The loaf is perfectly good plain, toasted, with a scrape of butter.

Easy family baking recipes for biscuit lovers

Biscuits are where kids get properly involved, because rolling balls of dough is a job a four-year-old can do with real pride. This oat and sultana version is a one-bowl affair.

You’ll need 125 g softened butter, half a cup of brown sugar, 1 egg, 1 teaspoon vanilla, 1 cup self-raising flour, 1 cup rolled oats and half a cup of sultanas or chocolate chips. Beat the butter and sugar with a wooden spoon until combined (soft butter makes this easy, so pull it out of the fridge an hour ahead). Mix in the egg and vanilla, then stir through the flour, oats and sultanas.

Roll level tablespoons of dough into balls, place them well apart on lined trays, and press each flat with a fork. Bake at 180°C (160°C fan) for 10 to 12 minutes, until golden at the edges. They’ll look soft in the middle. Leave them on the tray for five minutes to firm up, then move to a rack. You’ll get roughly 20, depending on how generous the little hands are with the dough.

If your household leans chocolate, our triple chocolate biscuits recipe is the next step up. Same basic idea, a bit more indulgent, and still well within reach of a weeknight.

Slices that save the afternoon

A slice is a biscuit that couldn’t be bothered rolling. You press a base into a tin, add a topping or filling, chill or bake, and cut into squares. It’s the lazy cook’s best friend, and the squares travel well to the park, the footy sideline or a mate’s place.

We have a few slices on the site already, so I won’t reprint them here. The muesli bar slice and the healthy homemade muesli bar recipe suit lunchboxes and the after-school hangry hour. The Lucy peach slice is a good way to use up fruit that’s going soft in the bowl.

On hot days I skip the oven altogether. The no-bake lemon coconut squares and the ideas in our no-bake sweet treat recipes list mean you can still produce something decent without turning the kitchen into a sauna. That matters in a Queensland January, and frankly in most of the country by February.

Two slice habits worth building. Line the tin with baking paper so you can lift the whole slab out and cut it on a board. And cut it cold, with a sharp knife wiped between cuts, because warm slice crumbles and cold slice behaves.

Jobs for small hands at the bench

Baking with kids is slower and messier than baking alone. Accept that before you start and you’ll enjoy it more. Flour will end up on the floor, an egg shell will end up in the mix, and someone will taste the batter. It’s all part of the deal.

Toddlers can tip pre-measured ingredients into a bowl, stir (with the bowl held steady), and squish dough. Preschoolers can crack eggs into a separate cup first, so you can fish out the shell, and roll biscuit balls. Primary school kids can measure, level cups with the back of a knife, and read the method aloud to you. That last one sneaks in some maths and reading practice without anyone calling it homework.

I do the grating myself or stand right beside the older kids. Knuckles and box graters are a familiar story. The oven is strictly an adult job in our house, and it’s worth setting that rule early and calmly. Keep little ones back from the door when it opens, use proper oven gloves, and put hot trays well out of reach on the bench. healthdirect has clear first aid information for burns and scalds, and it’s worth reading before you need it.

Allergies, raw dough and other safety bits

Start with allergies, because they decide what you can pack and share. Many schools and childcare centres have rules about nuts and other allergens, so check yours before baking anything for the lunchbox. If your child has a diagnosed food allergy, follow the plan from their doctor, and see ASCIA’s food allergy information for the Australian guidance on managing it.

Raw dough is the next one. Kids love licking the spoon, and I understand the pull, but raw egg and raw flour can both carry germs. The Food Safety Information Council has practical home food safety advice, and the simple rule in our house is that the spoon gets washed before the tasting happens, not after. Wash hands before and after, and cool baked goods on a rack rather than leaving them on the bench for hours in warm weather.

For the youngest eaters, think about texture. Sultanas are sticky and chewy, so for toddlers I’d chop or soak them, and stay with the child while they eat. Whole nuts are a choking hazard for little ones, and Kidsafe is a good starting point for choking prevention. Honey, often swapped in for sugar, isn’t recommended for babies under 12 months because of the risk of infant botulism, which healthdirect explains on its botulism page. If you’re unsure what suits your baby, ask your GP or child and family health nurse.

Fitting the sweet stuff into a normal week

I’m not going to pretend a biscuit is health food. The Australian Dietary Guidelines class cakes, biscuits and similar baked goods as discretionary foods, meaning they sit outside the core food groups. That doesn’t make them banned. It means they’re a sometimes thing, and baking at home at least lets you control the sugar and the butter, and see what’s going in.

My own approach is dull but works. Bake on the weekend, cut slices smaller than the shop version, and pair them with something real: a piece of fruit, a glass of milk, some cheese. If you want to read more about added sugar, healthdirect has a plain-English page on sugar and your health. For babies under one, ask your child and family health nurse about added sugar rather than guessing.

Baking can also help with fussy eaters. Kids who’ve grated the apple, tipped in the sultanas and stirred the batter are often more willing to try the result. It’s not magic, and some days they’ll still push the plate away, but it’s a low-pressure way to build familiarity. For lunchbox ideas that lean on whole foods, have a look at becoming a whole food lunch box ninja.

Storing, freezing and the Sunday batch

The loaf keeps well in an airtight container at room temperature for a few days. In hot, humid weather I’d move it to the fridge sooner rather than later, because fruit-heavy cakes go mouldy faster than you’d think. If you spot any mould, bin the lot rather than cutting around it.

Biscuits stay crisp in an airtight tin for several days, and a slice of bread in the tin can help soften them again if they go hard. Slices usually do best in the fridge, particularly the no-bake kind.

My favourite trick is freezing. Slice the loaf, wrap pieces individually in baking paper, and pop them in a freezer bag. You can pull out one at a time and let it thaw in the lunchbox, which suits school mornings nicely. Biscuit dough balls can be frozen raw on a tray, then bagged, and baked straight from the freezer with an extra minute or two in the oven.

So that’s the whole plan: one loaf, one tray of biscuits, one slice, and a Sunday afternoon that smells like cinnamon. Start with the loaf. By the second bake you’ll have stopped checking the recipe, and the kids will be asking what’s next.

— Ben Calloway, Parents Domain

What family-friendly really means on a booking page

Those two words are marketing, not a standard. No rating body checks them, and a resort can put them on its website because it lets kids into the breakfast room. So read for evidence rather than adjectives. A place that has done the work will show you its cot policy, kids’ menu prices, pool depths, club age ranges and club hours. A place that hasn’t will show you a sunset.

Then think about your actual family, not a generic one. A resort built for school-age kids, with slides, mini golf and a games room, can be a trial with a baby who naps at odd hours. A quiet, adult-leaning spot with a beautiful lagoon pool might suit a toddler and bore a ten-year-old by day two. Write down ages, nap times, allergies and what each child is genuinely good at on holidays. Match the place to that list. If you’re still deciding where to go at all, these five family holiday ideas are a handy starting point.

I use a simple test. If a property can’t answer a plain email within a couple of days, I don’t expect it to cope with a meltdown at six in the evening. And I skim the reviews for mentions of kids the same age as mine, because a five-star note from a couple on a getaway tells you nothing about the toddler pool.

Rooms, cots and sleep: choose the layout first

Room layout beats pool size, every time. Once a baby is down at seven, a single hotel room means two adults whispering in a bathroom or sitting in the dark. A one-bedroom apartment, a family suite with a door between the sleeping areas, or connecting rooms changes the whole trip. A kitchenette matters too, even a basic one: a fridge for milk, a microwave for bottles and a sink to wash them.

Ask about cots before anything else. Is a portable cot supplied, is it free, and does it come with a firm, flat mattress that fits snugly plus a fitted sheet? Ask whether it meets the mandatory Australian safety standard for portable cots. A decent resort will know the answer without hunting for it. Red Nose’s safe sleeping guidance is clear that babies sleep on their back with the cot free of pillows, soft toys and loose bedding, so ask for the cot to be set up bare. If you’d rather bring your own travel cot, check the resort is happy with that.

Then look for the hazards you’d fix at home. Balcony balustrades a toddler can climb, doors without child-resistant latches, windows that open wide, a slippery bath. Ask for a room away from the pool bar and the lifts, and on a low floor if you’d rather not haul a pram upstairs.

Pool, beach and slide: the water safety checks

Water is where holidays go wrong fastest, and it happens quietly. So I look at the water before I look at anything else.

Start with the fencing. Backyard pools in Australia must meet a barrier standard, AS 1926.1, but the rules for resort and commercial pools vary by state and territory, so you can’t assume the setup matches what you’d have at home. Look for a toddler pool that’s separate from the main one, gates that close and latch by themselves, and a lifeguard or at least posted supervision hours. Kidsafe has plain-English water safety advice for families that’s worth a read before you go.

No fence replaces you. For little ones the rule is within arm’s reach with the phone down, and with two adults at the pool you need to agree out loud who’s on watch. That sounds fussy until the day each parent assumes the other one has it.

Beaches and slides deserve the same questions. A resort beach isn’t necessarily patrolled, so ask, and swim between the flags where there are flags. Slides should have posted height or age limits and someone staffing them. Here’s my mildly unpopular view: I’d take a small, well-fenced pool I can see from the room over a giant lagoon with a dozen blind corners. Spectacular is nice. Visible is better.

Sun, shade and the middle of the day

The sun does its damage while everyone’s having fun. Check the photos for shade over the toddler pool and playground, not only over the adult loungers. Shade sails, covered seating and a pool that isn’t baking from noon to three are all good signs.

SunSmart recommends sun protection whenever the UV index is three or above, which covers a big chunk of the year across much of Australia, and the tropics are no different. Their routine is slip, slop, slap, seek, slide: shirt, sunscreen, hat, shade and sunglasses. Babies need extra care, so read the Cancer Council’s page on sun protection for babies before you pack.

Ask whether the resort hires or sells rash vests, and bring your own broad-brimmed hats so you’re not paying resort prices. Then plan around the heat. Water play early, a long lunch and a rest in the middle of the day, back outside once it cools down.

Food, allergies and the dinner-table test

In our house, a holiday succeeds or fails around mealtimes. A hungry four-year-old at a table with a forty-minute wait is a recipe for tears, theirs and yours.

Look closely at the kids’ menu. If it’s chips, nuggets and a bowl of plain pasta, you’ll be eating the same thing every night. Better places offer half serves of proper meals, early sittings, high chairs and a cheerful tolerance for crumbs. Buffets suit fussy eaters because they can pick for themselves, but they can be tricky for allergies. A room with a kitchenette lets you handle breakfast and a few simple dinners yourself, which saves money and keeps routines intact. Honestly, takeaway fish and chips on a patch of grass at sunset is hard to beat, so a resort near a decent bakery or supermarket gets bonus points from me.

If your child has a food allergy, email before you book, not after. Ask who handles allergen information, whether the kitchen can talk you through ingredients and cross-contact, and whether staff know what to do in an emergency. Bring your child’s action plan and any prescribed adrenaline autoinjector. ASCIA has food allergy information for families, and healthdirect covers food allergies in children in plain language.

Kids’ clubs, babysitting and who is actually in charge

A good kids’ club can make a holiday work for the adults as well as the kids. A bad one is a room with a telly. Ask the minimum age, the hours, the staff-to-child ratio, whether sessions are free or paid, and whether you sign children in and out. Ask too whether staff have first aid training and a Working with Children Check, which is a state and territory requirement for people working with kids in many roles.

It helps to know that a resort kids’ club often isn’t the same thing as a licensed childcare service, so the rules around ratios and qualifications may differ. If you want a yardstick, Starting Blocks explains what quality childcare looks like in Australia.

Try it first. Stay for the opening half hour with a new child, watch how staff handle a wobbly one, then leave in stages. Don’t fill every day with club time either; the point is to be together. In-room babysitting is another option, and it’s fair to ask whether sitters come through an agency and what checks they’ve had.

Getting there, and what it really costs

The best resort in the country is a poor choice if the trip eats a day at each end. Count the drive or flight time against your child’s patience, not yours. For a baby or toddler, a short hop or a drive of a few hours often beats a long haul. If flying is on the cards, these tips for easier flights with kids will save some grief, and if an island appeals, have a look at the reasons to take kids to Fiji.

Then add up the true price. Compare per-child charges, the age cut-offs for kids staying and eating free, resort fees, parking, kids’ club costs, hire charges for cots, high chairs and prams, and meal prices. School holiday weeks cost the most, and the shoulder weeks either side can be much cheaper with shorter queues. Check that your travel insurance covers the kids and the activities you plan to do.

Travelling with a bigger crew? Our travel tips for bigger families cover the room and budget juggling, and ways to enjoy stress-free holidays is worth a skim before you pack.

Eight questions to email before you book

I’d send these to any shortlisted resort. The replies, and how fast and plainly they arrive, tell you more than the photos.

1. Which rooms have a separate sleeping area, a fridge and a microwave?
2. Is a cot supplied free, and does it meet the mandatory Australian standard?
3. How are the pools fenced, which are shallow, and when is a lifeguard on duty?
4. Is there shade over the toddler pool and playground?
5. Who manages allergen information in the kitchen, and what is the process?
6. What age does the kids’ club start, what are the hours and ratios, and what checks do staff hold?
7. What is the all-up cost for our family, including extras?
8. Where are the nearest supermarket, pharmacy and medical centre?

Send those eight and your shortlist sorts itself in an afternoon. The brochure promises the slide; the answers tell you whether the door between the beds actually closes. Pick the place that replies quickly, plainly and without getting defensive. And if the kids are still talking about the waterslide in thirty years, well, that’s a bonus.

— Ben Calloway, Parents Domain

Below is what we reckon is worth buying from newborn to primary school, what to check before you pay, and how to dodge the classic mistakes. We researched and compared ideas rather than reviewing particular products, so treat this as a checklist you can take to any maker or shop.

Why a name on it makes a gift stick

Most newborns collect duplicates. Two or three of everything arrives in the first fortnight, and the practical stuff blurs together. The item with the baby’s name on it is the one that gets photographed, tucked into a memory box and pulled out again at the 18th or 21st. That’s the real appeal.

It also solves the awkward part of gifting, which is guessing what a family actually needs. A personalised gift doesn’t clash with the nappy stash or the third bouncer. If you want the non-personalised basics covered too, our lists of the 21 best newborn gifts and more newborn gifts ideas are a good place to start.

Here’s my mildly unpopular view: personalise the things a child will keep, not the things they’ll outgrow in eight weeks. A name stitched onto a newborn-size bodysuit is sweet for one photo, and then it’s in the hand-me-down bag. A book, a framed print, a keepsake box or a wooden toy lasts. Clothing rarely does.

A fair test is whether the item will still make sense on a shelf when the child is five. If it will, the personalisation is earning its price. Custom pieces usually cost more than the off-the-shelf version, so they should.

Personalised baby gifts for the first year

For babies under twelve months, the best options are soft, simple and fine with being chewed, dropped and dribbled on.

Cloth books and photo books

The custom name cloth book is a classic of the category. Years ago we featured a Queensland seller who wrote and illustrated one for her own son, using family photographs, bright colours and simple pictures, with a blank panel inside the cover for a message in fabric pen. Handmade sellers still make versions of the idea, and photo-book printers have joined in. Check that it’s machine washable, that the edges are stitched firmly, and that nothing dangles. Ribbons and beads look cute in a listing photo and are a problem in a seven-month-old’s mouth.

Keepsakes for the shelf

Framed birth-detail prints with the name, date and time, hand-embroidered portraits based on a family photo, a wooden keepsake box or a hand-print kit all live on a wall or shelf, so there’s no safety debate. These suit grandparents and godparents, who often want to give something lasting rather than another outfit.

Soft goods, with a caveat

Embroidered muslins, bibs, plush toys and blankets with a name on them are lovely for the pram, the playmat and the lounge. The caveat is the cot. Red Nose guidance is to keep the sleep space clear of soft toys, pillows and loose bedding (see the Red Nose six safe sleep recommendations), so tell the parents a personalised plush is a daytime gift.

If the family has gone down the reusable path, our guide to best cloth nappies for Aussie babies is a more useful starting point than a monogram.

Personalised gift ideas for toddlers and preschoolers

Once a child can grab, stack and announce that something is ‘mine’, personalisation gets more fun, because they actually notice it. Here are the ones that tend to get used.

• Wooden name puzzles. Each letter is its own piece, and a toddler learns the shape of their own name long before they read it.
• Stories starring the child. Custom books where the child’s name appears in the tale suit bedtime, and they’ll be read again and again. We’ve written about why kids love repeating the same book, and it’s not a phase worth fighting.
• Drink bottles, lunch boxes and bags. Named for daycare or kindy, these are practical rather than romantic, and honestly the most used gift on this list.
• Art smocks. A named smock makes messy play more appealing to everyone, including the parent who does the washing.
• Drawings turned into plush toys or prints. A child’s scribble turned into a keepsake is a favourite with grandparents. For little ones, look for embroidered rather than glued-on features.
• Height charts. A personalised wooden ruler or wall chart that records growth year by year becomes a family heirloom surprisingly fast.

Nothing on that list needs batteries or a screen, and I’d argue that’s a big part of why these gifts get used. If you’d rather buy a ready-made story, our roundup of the best bedtime story books pairs nicely with a handwritten inscription on the first page. That costs nothing and tends to be the bit people keep.

Safety checks before you click buy

Handmade and personalised doesn’t mean exempt. Children’s products are still covered by the Australian Consumer Law and product safety rules enforced by the ACCC, and a decent seller should be able to tell you how they’ve thought about it. Kidsafe’s child safety information is a good reference for choking and toy hazards, and the CHOICE babies and kids section is worth a skim before a bigger purchase.

1. Small parts. For anyone under three, check that eyes, buttons, letters and beads can’t be pulled off. A handy home test is a toilet-roll tube: anything that fits inside it can be a choking hazard.
2. Button batteries. Musical or light-up personalised toys need a secured battery compartment, usually closed with a screw. Australia has mandatory standards for products that use button and coin batteries, but if a compartment pops open with a thumbnail, put it back on the shelf.
3. Cords, ribbons and tassels. Long ones are a strangulation risk, so skip anything dangling near a cot or pram.
4. Finishes. For wooden items a baby will mouth, ask what paint, stain or oil was used and whether it’s meant for children’s toys.
5. Jewellery. Engraved name bracelets and necklaces for babies are better left until they’re older, or given to a parent instead.
6. The sleep space. Soft toys and blankets stay out of the cot, as above.

If a seller can’t answer these questions, move on. There are plenty who can.

Getting the name right

The most common failure with personalised gifts isn’t safety, it’s spelling. Confirm the exact spelling with the parents, including hyphens, accents and capitals, and copy it from a message rather than typing from memory. A Mackenzie and McKenzie mix-up can’t be unstitched.

Timing matters as well. Some families hold the name back until after the birth, and some are still deciding weeks in. Our piece on the stages of choosing a baby name shows how drawn out the process can be, so don’t order off a rumour. A gift with the wrong name on it is a bad surprise.

Then there’s privacy. A first name on a bag or drink bottle is fine. A full name, birth date and address on something that sits on a pram or gets left at daycare gives a stranger more than they need. Stick to first names or initials when in doubt.

One more thing: check the seller’s character limits. A long double-barrel name can force a tiny font or an awkward abbreviation, and you won’t know until it arrives. Ask for a preview of the layout if the name is longer than about twelve letters.

Buying from makers and small sellers

Etsy-style marketplaces, local markets and small online shops are where most personalised baby gifts come from, and many are run by one person at a kitchen table, often a parent. That’s part of the charm. It’s also why a few questions are worth asking before you pay.

• How long does it take to make, and when will it ship? Allow a few weeks around Christmas, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, when made-to-order queues grow.
• Can you see a proof of the wording or design before it’s made?
• What is it made from, and how should it be washed?
• What’s the returns policy on made-to-order items?
• Does it ship from Australia? Overseas postage can add weeks.

On returns, Australian Consumer Law guarantees still apply if a custom item arrives faulty or doesn’t match its description. But many sellers won’t refund a change of mind on a personalised piece, because it can’t be resold, so read the policy first. Keep the message thread too, in case you need to show what was agreed.

I’d rather spend on one well-made item than three cheap ones. A solid wooden puzzle or a properly stitched book will survive a second child, and the name can be a talking point rather than a problem. In our house the stitched things outlast everything else, though I’ll admit the plastic ones are easier to wash.

Personalised gifts for older kids

School-age children are harder to buy for, and they have opinions. The good news is that personalisation still lands, as long as it’s tied to something they actually like rather than a name in curly script.

Bookplates with their name, a notebook with their initials, or a favourite book with a handwritten message inside the cover all work well. If you need ideas for what to put on the shelf, start with books every new school kid should read or a pile of sticker books preschoolers love for the younger end. Named labels for uniforms, hats and drink bottles save a surprising amount of grief at the lost property bin.

Let the child choose the colour or the design where you can. A seven-year-old who picked the dinosaur on the pencil case will look after it far better than one who was handed it.

Matching the gift to the occasion

Different occasions suit different gifts, and a name isn’t always the point. Here’s a quick way to match them up.

If you’re gifting the mum rather than the baby, a bunch of flowers with a handwritten note can be the kindest thing on the doorstep. Our piece on gifting personalised flowers to new mums covers the details.

Back to that baby with the muslin mountain. The gift that cuts through is rarely the fanciest one. It’s the one that’s safe, spelt correctly, still loved at five, and given with a short note in your own handwriting.

— The Parents Domain team, Parents Domain

Set up the craft table before the bunny arrives

Ten minutes of setup saves an hour of scrubbing. Cover the table with an old sheet, a cheap plastic tablecloth or a few layers of newspaper, and put the kids in T-shirts you’ve already given up on. Tape the paper down with masking tape so it stops skating around, because toddlers find a sliding page deeply annoying.

Gather everything first. A craft project falls apart the moment you leave the room to hunt for the glue, and I say that as someone whose craft drawer is mostly sticky tape stubs and one mystery glitter pen. A tray or an old baking dish for each child keeps supplies contained and gives little ones a clear edge to their space.

Pick one main activity and one backup. Children under about three often last ten to fifteen minutes at a table, and that’s perfectly normal. Preschoolers can stretch further, especially if there’s a second stage, like painting the thing today and decorating it tomorrow once it’s dry. Drying time is your friend over a long weekend. It turns one craft into two sessions with no extra effort from you.

Washable paint and water-based, non-toxic glue are worth the small extra cost. Check the label for an age rating, keep anything sharp well out of reach, and stick with child-safe scissors for small hands.

Egg decorating that works with small hands

Egg decorating is the classic for a reason. The old Easter roundups I remember were full of dyed eggs, watercolour eggs and eggs turned into little creatures, and it all still works. The trick is choosing the right sort of egg for your child’s age.

Hard-boiled eggs are the usual pick. Boil them, cool them completely and treat them as craft items from then on. The Food Safety Information Council is a good place to check current guidance on handling and storing eggs. My own rule is simple: decorated eggs are decorations, not lunch. If anyone might nibble them, keep them in the fridge between sessions and bin them at the first doubt.

Blown eggs last longer. An adult makes a small hole at each end and blows the egg out into a bowl (scrambled eggs for tea, sorted). Rinse and dry the shell and it can keep for years. Fair warning, though: shells are fragile and toddlers are enthusiastic. Wooden or plastic eggs from a craft shop are a brilliant stand-in for the under-fours, and they survive being dropped.

Here’s how the ideas stack up by age:

• Toddlers: paint wooden eggs with chunky brushes or cotton buds, or roll them through a tray of washable paint.
• Preschoolers: draw on white eggs with a white wax crayon first, then wash watercolour over the top. The pattern appears like magic, which is the whole appeal.
• Older kids: wrap rubber bands round the egg, dunk it in food colouring mixed with warm water and a splash of vinegar, then peel the bands off for stripes.
• Everyone: add googly eyes, felt ears and pipe-cleaner feet to turn an egg into a creature.

Food colouring stains clothes, skin and benchtops, so put the grown-up in charge of the dye. Use mugs or jars rather than wide bowls. They’re much harder to tip.

Easter crafts for kids from the recycling bin

This is where the long weekend gets cheap. Before the bin goes out on Thursday night, rescue the egg cartons, toilet rolls, cereal boxes and any cardboard that’s been hanging around the laundry.

An egg carton is basically a craft kit. Cut the cups apart, paint them yellow and add a folded orange felt beak and two eyes, and you’ve got a flock of chicks. Leave a carton whole and it becomes a caterpillar, or a tray for sorting pom poms by colour, which a surprising number of toddlers will do for far longer than any craft.

Toilet rolls make good bunnies. Paint one white or grey, pinch the top and fold it to make ears, then draw on a face and stick a cotton ball on the back for a tail. They also stand up on their own, so they double as an Easter table decoration. Pop a few shredded strips of paper in the top for a nest and you’re done.

A big cardboard box is the best investment of all. Cut a door in the side and it’s a burrow for the toy bunnies, or a hutch for the soft toys that have taken over the couch. I’d argue a box and a texta will outlast almost any shop-bought Easter toy, and nobody has to find batteries. For more ways to keep the bin out of landfill, have a look at these zero-waste craft ideas for kids.

Paper plate and papercraft ideas for little crafters

Paper plates are cheap, sturdy enough for wet paint and exactly the right size for a small child’s arm sweep. Paint one yellow, fold it in half for a body, add a triangle beak and let the kids glue on tissue paper feathers. That’s a chick. Paint it white instead, cut out two long ears and glue them to the top and you have a bunny face ready for whiskers.

Tearing paper is brilliant for little fingers. Draw a big egg shape on a sheet of paper and ask your child to fill it with torn tissue paper or magazine scraps. It builds hand strength, it’s very forgiving, and there’s no wrong answer. The result looks great stuck on the window.

Handprints are always a hit. Paint a palm and fingers white, press it onto coloured paper with the fingers pointing up, and the two longest become bunny ears. Add a face once it’s dry. If the paint feels like too much on a busy morning, trace around the hand and let them colour it in.

Older preschoolers will like folding and cutting. Zigzag-cut egg shapes, simple paper baskets and bunny ear headbands all work well, and you’ll find more step-by-step options in these easy papercrafts for preschoolers. Keep a small bowl of glue sticks nearby. They’re far less likely to end up on the dog than liquid glue.

Easter decorations to hang, stick and string up

Kids tend to care a lot more about decorations they made themselves, so give them jobs. A paper egg garland is the easiest place to start. Cut a pile of egg shapes from coloured card, let the children decorate each one with stickers, stripes or dots, punch a hole in the top and thread them onto string. Hang it across a doorway or along a windowsill.

Window art is a good rainy-day one. Cut a big egg shape out of the middle of a sheet of black paper to make a frame, then stick clear contact paper across the back with the sticky side facing out. Kids press on tissue paper squares until the egg glows when the light comes through. Stick it to the glass with a bit of tape and admire it from the couch.

For something a bit more grown up, grab a fallen branch from the park or the backyard, stand it in a jar of pebbles and hang tiny paper or wooden eggs from it. It looks surprisingly smart on a sideboard and costs nothing.

Salt dough ornaments are a lovely keepsake. A common recipe uses two cups of plain flour, one cup of salt and about one cup of water. Mix, roll, cut out egg or bunny shapes with cookie cutters, poke a hole for the string and bake in a low oven until hard. Paint them when cool. One firm rule: salt dough is not food. It’s very salty, so keep it away from toddlers who put everything in their mouths and from the family dog, and check the healthdirect poisoning advice if anyone does swallow some.

Hats, baskets and the Friday before the school parade

If your child’s kindy or school holds an Easter hat parade, it usually lands on the last day before the break, which means you might be gluing cotton wool to a paper plate at ten o’clock the night before. Done that? You’re not alone. A parade hat can be as simple as a decorated headband with felt bunny ears, and kids tend to be prouder of a wonky one they made than a perfect one you did.

I’ve gathered a few options in easy Easter hat ideas for little ones, and if you’re already running late there are last-minute Easter hat parade ideas that need nothing more than what’s in the craft drawer.

Baskets are the other big one. A cardboard box with a handle cut from a strip of card does the job, or fold a paper plate in half and staple the edges to make a pocket for the egg hunt. Let the kids decorate the outside with paint, stickers or pressed leaves. Fill with shredded paper, which beats the plastic grass that ends up all over the house for months.

Keeping Easter crafting safe and calm

The most common hazard in all of this is small parts. Googly eyes, pom poms, beads, buttons and mini chocolate eggs can all be choking hazards for young children, so stay within arm’s reach of anyone under three and choose bigger pieces where you can. Kidsafe has practical advice on keeping small objects away from little mouths. If your toddler is the type who tastes everything, swap the loose bits for stickers, paint and chunky crayons.

Food allergies matter at Easter too. Many chocolates and craft-kit eggs carry allergen warnings, and some crafts, like tubs of pasta or oats for sensory play, use food ingredients. If your child has an allergy, check labels and keep their craft items separate from what other kids might snack on. The ASCIA food allergy page is the place to check current guidance, and your GP or allergy specialist can advise on your own child. If they have an egg allergy, ask your doctor whether handling eggs is okay, and use wooden eggs in the meantime.

Quick opinion: I’d leave the glitter in the shop. It ends up in hair, carpet and, somehow, the cereal, and sequins and sticky stars do the same sparkly job without the clean-up. And if anything is swallowed that shouldn’t be, call the Poisons Information Centre on 13 11 26 straight away.

A long weekend plan that isn’t all craft

Four days is a lot of craft, and honestly nobody needs to do it all. Our usual rhythm looks something like this: egg painting on Good Friday morning, outdoors on Saturday while the eggs dry, a hunt on Sunday, and a lazy Monday with a movie on the couch.

On the movie front, there are plenty of gentle picks in these cute Easter movies and TV specials. And if your child is old enough to be suspicious about how the chocolate arrived, ways to prove the Easter Bunny came has some mischievous ideas, from muddy paw prints to a note left behind.

The best bit about all these crafts is that they cost almost nothing and the cleaning up takes ten minutes. Keep a few egg cartons by for next year. You’ll be glad you did.

— Rebecca Lin, Parents Domain