Lapland with Kids: What We Would Do Differently Next Time

We’d been dreaming about taking the kids to Lapland for years. The image in my head was pure fairytale: heavy white snow weighing down the pine trees, eager huskies, reindeer, a visit with Santa, and maybe, with a bit of luck, the green glow of the Aurora dancing across a clear night sky.

When we finally landed, it actually lived up to that daydream. It was cold, quiet, and genuinely magical. The four of us came home with stories we’ll be telling around the dinner table for decades. Still, no matter how much you read online before packing your bags, you only really figure out how a place works once your boots hit the ground.

Looking back, I wouldn’t scrap our itinerary and start from scratch. But traveling with kids in freezing temperatures teaches you a few hard lessons. Knowing what I know now, here is what we’d tweak if we ever packed our thermals for a second trip to Finnish Lapland.

We would book a longer husky safari

If I could hit the rewind button on one part of our trip, this would be it.

Don’t get me wrong, meeting the dogs was sweet, but our sled ride was over almost as soon as it started. We spent maybe fifteen minutes zipping around a small loop in the trees. I’d spent months picturing a proper arctic expedition—gliding deep into the quiet, snowy wilderness behind a team of eager dogs. Instead, we barely scratched the surface.

I also dropped the ball on another detail when I booked: we were just passengers. A guide stood on the back and handled the team the whole time. It was a safe, easy introduction, especially for the kids, but I missed the thrill of actually standing on the runners. Next time, I want to hold the reins, lean into the turns, and yell the commands myself.

Because the ride was so brief, everything felt rushed. I barely had time to pull off my thick mittens and snap a few photos before we were pulled back into the yard.

My biggest takeaway? Don’t just click “book” because a tour has “husky safari” in the title. Read the fine print. Look at the actual minutes spent on the snow, check if you get to drive, and see how far out into the woods the trail actually goes. Those tiny details completely change the experience.

We would still hope for the Northern Lights – but manage our expectations

Look, we couldn’t control the weather, but the experience completely shifted how I view the Northern Lights.

We got lucky and spotted them a few different nights. The catch? To our bare eyes, the light was often just a faint, hazy smudge. Some nights I honestly struggled to see anything at all. It was actually my camera that did the heavy lifting. Once I flipped on the night shutter mode, suddenly the screen popped with deep greens that simply weren’t visible to us standing there in the cold.

That was probably my biggest reality check. You spend months staring at those jaw-dropping photos online—you know, the ones with electric green ribbons swirling wildly across the night—and you quietly convince yourself that’s what’s waiting for you in Lapland.

We didn’t get that.

Don’t get me wrong, standing under the Arctic sky watching the aurora was still magic. But we never got that dramatic, sweeping show I’d secretly been dreaming about, and honestly, you just have to be okay with that. You can obsess over forecast apps, drive out to the pitch-black woods, and freeze your toes off until 2 a.m. At the end of the night, nature calls the shots.

If I went back tomorrow, I’d still cross my fingers for a blowout show, but I’d pack a heavy dose of realism alongside my thermal socks. I wrote a lot more about this in my post on chasing the aurora in Lapland, where I break down the stark difference between what your lens captures and what you actually see with your own two eyes.

We would choose a different location – and make our accommodation part of the experience

Don’t get me wrong, our place was great. So why wouldn’t I book it again? Simply put, we’ve already done it. If I manage to get back to Lapland, I want to explore a totally different corner. I’m thinking somewhere closer to Rovaniemi to see how another part of the Finnish north feels.

More than that, though, I want where we sleep to be half the fun. Our spot this trip was practical, warm, and cozy—it did the job. But next time around? I want something wild, the kind of stay you talk about for years after you pack your bags.

I’d love to sleep in an ice hotel.

There’s a weird, wonderful thrill in the thought of tucked-in sleeping inside a building carved completely from snow and ice. Will it be the coziest night’s sleep I’ve ever had? Almost certainly not. But honestly, comfort isn’t what you’re paying for here. I just want to feel that crisp winter air on my nose while bundled up under thick thermal blankets, surrounded by glowing frozen art carved straight out of the Arctic climate.

I haven’t ruled out a classic glass igloo, either. The idea of propping my feet up, staring out at the pitch-black northern sky, and waiting for the green flashes of the Aurora to dance overhead sounds completely unreal. If I get my way on our next trip north, we’ll split the difference: one night in the ice hotel for the pure novelty, and a few nights in an igloo for those late-night sky views.

If you’re bringing the little ones along on their very first Arctic adventure, check out my guide on where to stay in Lapland with kids to help narrow down the best base for your family.

We would leave more space in the itinerary

If I could hit rewind on our Lapland prep, this is the main thing I’d change.

It’s ridiculously easy to get carried away when you’re planning from your couch. Huskies? Added. Reindeer farm? Added. Santa meeting? Added. Northern Lights hunt, snowmobiling, skiing? Yes, yes, and yes. Before you even pack your thermals, every single hour of every day is jammed full.

Here is the truth, though: you really don’t have to do it all.

When I look back at our trip, the memories that actually stuck weren’t the packed tours. They were the slow, quiet moments. Watching the kids throw themselves into fresh drifts of snow, listening to the soft crunch under our boots, and just staring out at the frozen pine trees.

Next time around, I’m picking two or three big things we care about and leaving wide-open gaps everywhere else. Giving yourself that breathing room leaves space for magic you can’t book in advance—a lazy morning watching snowfall through the window, an unscheduled detour down a quiet track, or a third mug of hot berry juice. Or just staying outside in the freezing air five minutes longer, simply because nobody is ready to take their boots off yet.

We would take the cold even more seriously

We knew Lapland was going to be freezing. We thought we were ready. We packed the thermal base layers, heavy coats, beanies, thick gloves, and wool socks. But there is ordinary winter cold, and then there is sub-zero Arctic air that bites your face the second you open the door.

That first step outside into the white silence feels magical. By the tenth time, though? You’re wrestling a frustrated kid into their third fleece layer, hunting under the bed for a rogue neck warmer, and trying to pull tiny gloves over frozen fingers. It tests your patience fast.

Proper gear saved us, but the secret wasn’t just piling on one massive puffer coat. It was all about the layers—keeping dry socks on the kids, making sure our gloves were actually windproof, and layering up before our skin felt chilled. We picked up so many practical lessons out there that I ended up writing a complete Lapland Packing List to save you the guesswork.

Before you panic and spend a small fortune on high-end Arctic gear, check what you already own. Since we ski, we brought our usual ski pants, waterproof jackets, and thermals, which cut our costs dramatically. If you’re starting from a completely empty winter closet, take a breath and map out what you need before buying up the entire outdoor store.

We would make time for more Finnish experiences

If there’s one major regret from our trip, it’s that we skipped a proper Finnish sauna. Saunas are practically a religion in Finland, yet somehow the days slipped away before we could sit in that dry, wood-heated heat and step out into the crisp Arctic air. Next time, I really want to track down a traditional *savusauna*—a smoke sauna—where logs burn down slowly for hours, leaving behind a rich, woodsy heat that lingers in the room.

Then, of course, comes the part that would probably make my kids run for the hills: the cool down. You’re supposed to follow the sweat session with a jump into a freezing lake, or during the depths of winter, an actual hole cut into the ice. Standing in the snow in just a swimsuit sounds completely unhinged, I know. But there’s something about that wild contrast that I can’t stop thinking about.

We missed out on ice floating, too. I’ve seen photos of people zipped into massive, insulated drysuits, drifting helplessly in frozen rivers while snow blanketed the trees around them. You’re suspended in water that should give you hypothermia, but inside the suit, you’re totally dry and warm. It looks like floating in outer space.

It’s funny—we spent so much energy ticking off the classic Lapland winter activities that we missed these quieter, deeply local rituals. But I actually love leaving a destination with a half-finished wishlist. It means when we go back, we won’t just be replaying the highlights. We’ll get to experience a totally different side of Finnish life.

We wouldn’t change our arrival day

Looking back, our arrival day is the one part of the trip I wouldn’t touch. It just worked. We threw our bags down, unpacked a little, and let the reality of being there sink in—no frantic rushing around trying to check off three sight-seeing spots before sunset.

I’m not saying you have to leave your first day completely blank every time you travel. It really comes down to when your flight lands, where you’re staying, and how much energy you actually have. But for this trip? Taking it slow was the right call. Sometimes that’s the biggest takeaway from being on the road: just because you’d tweak a few things about a trip doesn’t mean you need to fix what isn’t broken.

We would budget a little differently

Going into the trip, we knew a family holiday to Lapland was going to hurt the bank account. By the time you tally up the flights, a place to stay, the excursions, proper thermal gear, and a rental car, the total is already eye-watering.

What really got us, though, were the sneaky everyday expenses. Steaming mugs of hot chocolate to warm frozen fingers, quick bakery stops, little carved wooden keepsakes, and all those random “just in case” purchases. Standing in the snow, surrounded by pine trees, it was far too easy to shrug, pull out the card, and whisper, “Well, we’re only here once.” We fell into that trap more than a few times.

If we ever head back, I’ll definitely pad our daily stash for those little splurges. I’d also rethink how we categorize the big-ticket stays. If you book a night in a glass igloo or an ice hotel, count that as a main activity on your itinerary, not just a bed for the night.

If you’re currently staring at a spreadsheet trying to figure out how to make this work, our guide to visiting Finnish Lapland on a budget breaks down where you can trim the fat without missing out on the fun. You don’t need to strip this trip down to the bare bones, but having a realistic picture of the daily damage makes the whole planning phase a lot less stressful.

So, would we go back?

Would we go back? In a heartbeat.

That really is the best way I can sum up how Lapland left us feeling. You know those rare trips where you walk through your front door at home, put down the bags, and immediately start planning how you’d do it all over again? This was one of those.

If we get to go back, I’ve already got my mental wishlist ready. I want a longer husky safari next time, and I’m definitely taking the reins to drive the sled myself. We’d probably stay somewhere else, maybe a bit closer to Rovaniemi to cut down on travel time. Sleeping in an ice hotel is high on my list—I mean, how often do you get to sleep inside a giant sculpture made of frozen water?—and I still dream about lying in bed under the glass roof of a thermal igloo, just watching the dark polar sky above us. I’d make time for a proper Finnish sauna, too. Maybe I’ll even work up the nerve to throw myself into an ice hole afterward. Most importantly, I’d leave wide open gaps in our schedule instead of trying to pack every single hour with activities.

Yet I wouldn’t alter a single detail of the magic we found there. That’s the funny thing about taking kids on a trip like this. You spend months obsessing over itineraries, booking excursions, and making sure every detail is pinned down. Then you get home, and the memories that stick aren’t the ones you planned.

It’s the crunch of deep snow under boot heels. The belly laughs. The bright pink cheeks from the frosty air. That sudden, quiet moment when you look at your kids, freeze, and think: *we’re actually standing together in the Arctic Circle.*

I’d catch a flight back tomorrow just to feel that again.

So, would we go back?

Would we go back? In a heartbeat.

That really sums up how Lapland grabbed hold of us. You know those rare trips where you walk through your front door at home, drop the bags, and immediately start planning the return journey? This was one of those.

I’ve already built a mental list for next time. I want to take a much longer husky safari, and this time, I’m holding the reins and driving the sled myself. Maybe we’ll base ourselves somewhere closer to Rovaniemi. I’d love to spend a night in an ice hotel just for the sheer novelty of it, or curl up in a glass igloo, staring straight up at the Arctic night sky from a warm bed. I want to do the whole Finnish sauna routine properly—floating in icy waters and maybe, if I can build up the nerve, taking the full freezing plunge. Most of all, I’d leave big, empty gaps in our schedule instead of rushing from one booked activity to the next.

Not that I regret how we did it. That’s the secret of taking kids on a trip like this. You can spend months obsessing over itineraries and reading tour reviews, but the stuff that sticks with you isn’t what you wrote down in your notebook. It’s the crunch of deep snow under boots. The kids’ belly laughs echoes across a silent forest. Bright red, frosty cheeks. The pure, electric excitement in the air.

More than anything, it’s that quiet second where you pause, look at your family, and think: *we’re actually standing here together in Finnish Lapland.* I’d pack my bags and fly back tomorrow just to feel that again.

Planning your own Lapland adventure?

Staring at a blank map trying to figure out how to squeeze all this into one trip can feel a bit overwhelming. That’s why I put together our full one-week Lapland itinerary to give you a solid framework. Honestly, seven days might feel tight when you start listing all the husky rides and reindeer farms in Finnish Lapland, but trust me on this: you don’t need to do every single thing.

Looking back on our own time in the snow, that’s actually my biggest piece of advice. Pick a handful of moments you’re truly excited about, build in plenty of downtime, and let yourself slow down. The magic of this place isn’t about checking off a massive to-do list. It’s about having enough room in your day to sit by a crackling fire and just soak it all in.

And who knows? Maybe on our next trip up north, I’ll finally get around to reviewing that ice hotel.