Our kids don’t seem to care if we holiday in Noosa or the local back beach or if we drive an Audi or a beaten up old bomb. I’m pretty sure that our young kids don’t even care what we cook them for dinner as long as it has soy sauce on it (in my case). And clearly, (see above) it doesn’t matter if you have an expensive cubby house out the back, they’ll only want to play in it if you’re out the back there somewhere too.
I think that maybe, all that matters to our kids is that we come along for the ride on their imagination train and spend quality time with them as much as we can.
And it helps to be able to make a rather shoddy cave at the drop of a hat with a doona and an ironing board I suppose. Growl away Lil Miss Tiger!