Meet the Bambinos

Milan, Milan, Milan…

Let’s get one thing straight: I now call my three kids bambinos. It started with a few too many chats with my Italian grandmas and aunties and stuck. Sounds classy, doesn’t it? Almost mafia-esque — like they’ve got a secret side hustle in biscotti smuggling and turf wars over who gets the top bunk.

First Impressions of the Fashion Capital

Milan — fashion capital of the world, land of Aperol Spritz, and home to temptation in the shape of boutique window displays.
You arrive thinking “budget break,” and five designer handbags later you’re plotting how to remortgage your house just to keep up with the Milani Joneses.

Spoiler: I did not, in fact, keep up.

A Less-Than-Glamorous Entrance

We landed in the heart of Milan via the Duomo metro stop — me, the three bambinos, and a wardrobe that screamed “practicality over Prada.”

It was 30°C, and I was glistening like Edward Cullen in a crisis.

Twilight vibes but make it unintentional comedy. Chic? Not so much.

One kid refused to wear sunscreen, one lost a Croc, and the third was loudly narrating everything in sight like a Milanese David Attenborough.

Surviving Duomo: What You Need to Know

Duomo is breathtaking… and absolutely heaving.

Influencers doing slo-mo spins. Tourists wielding selfie sticks like medieval weapons. Ring lights as far as the eye could see.

Hot tip: the Duomo metro stop is BUSY. Think “crowd-surfing while holding a screaming toddler and a bright orange suitcase” busy.

That suitcase — fluorescent and shameless — was basically its own character. At this point I’m dragging it through the crowds like a contestant on The Amazing Race: Mum Edition.

Local Life on the Outskirts of Milan

We eventually escaped the Insta-mob and made it to our Airbnb on the edge of the city.

It was quieter, cheaper, and full of local charm — exactly how we like it. You really get to feel the real Milan when you stay where the nonnas shop and the kids kick footballs in alleyways.

The neighbourhood was full of little bakeries, family-run restaurants, and old-school corner shops. One even had fresh bread that almost made me cry. (I blame the heat. And carbs.)

The Lidl Pilgrimage

Then I saw it.

Lidl.

Like a shining oasis in a sea of stilettos and €5 espressos.

Reader, I sprinted. I marched in like I’d lived there all my life.

Rubbing baskets with locals, confidently whispering my best “ciao bella” to the cashier, and flinging mortadella and olives into the trolley like I was prepping for an Italian wedding.

My entire Italian vocab came out:

“Grazie… prego… mozzarella…”

€46 later, I was victorious. Groceries secured. Kids fed. Budget intact.

Back at our flat, I kicked off my sandals and planned the week ahead — belly full, suitcase still orange, heart completely stolen by this loud, stylish, ridiculous city.

Final Thoughts: Milan Travel with Kids

Sure, Milan might be all about high fashion and high prices — but dig a little deeper, dodge a few influencers, and you’ll find the rhythm of real local life.

Throw in a Lidl run, a few bambinos, and a bit of chaos? You’ve got yourself a story worth telling.

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