I let my teenage kids plan our Thailand holiday. What could possibly go wrong?

I have two teens, Oliver and Zara. Before moving to Sydney, we lived an expat life, lots of travel writing gigs and globe-trotting to catch up with their dad, James, who was always on the move for work. They loved the five-star resorts I reviewed. Lately? Not so much. So, James and I handed them the reins: five nights, six days in Chiang Mai, a loose $250 a day budget, full planning power. What could go wrong? Oh, just a few things.

Let's be honest, TikTok is the new Google for teens. Zara took off researching, while Ollie dived into booking sites. Neither consulted the kind of travel articles I write. Honestly, what am I even doing? Ollie's "ThaiLand" Google doc had hotel options, possible activities, even a currency conversion. Zara wanted an elephant sanctuary, night markets, ziplining. They divided the trip accommodation: Ollie first two nights, Zara the rest. With little movement a month out, I dropped a table in the doc: HOTEL, ADDRESS, DATE, INCLUSIONS, ACTIVITIES. Another life template from parent to child. The table started to fill. Zara upped the ante by setting up a WhatsApp group, surprisingly effective when I needed help sorting rental cars and visa info. She nailed it. Smug mum moment, planning stage tick. It felt too easy. Then we arrived.

We squeezed in two nights in Bangkok to visit friends, but Zara came down with a bad case of Bangkok belly. Weak, pale, clutching a vomit bag, we wheeled her onto the plane to Chiang Mai. It was so grim, we took a photo. It's now our family go-to photo when we need a laugh.

Things looked up until James started clutching his stomach at Sixt car rental. Ollie stayed calm, navigating us to Mae Jo Golf Resort & Spa, his first-night pick for a round with Dad. But plans had shifted when our Bangkok friends vehemently suggested a detour to Pai. Ollie scrambled, cancelled one night and rebooked Pai Village Boutique Resort, staying within budget. At Mae Jo, James was out for the count. Ollie's golf plan? Gone. We explored instead on rusty mountain bikes. The place, once a fruit orchard, had charm but had clearly seen better days.

Dinner was rice on the bed in our sad little room. Illness had hit hard. Lesson one: sometimes travel just kicks your butt. Deal with it! We captured the moment, of course.

All of us were hungry and desperate to leave. Ollie navigated James to Pai, a 2.5-hour drive along 700 bends and a 2500-metre climb providing the ultimate distraction from James's cramps.

We refuelled on banana muffins at the quirky Witch's House, then made it to Pai Canyon for sweeping views. The town stirred my backpacker memories - cool travellers, breezy cafes, cruisey vibes, crisp mountain air and the occasional hint of something "herbal" on the breeze.

Ollie scored with our stay: Pai Village Boutique Resort, a laidback spot of rustic huts and modern rooms. We met Adam, a gravel bike pro from Colorado, who tipped us off to Sugarcane Home and Walking Street dessert carts. Stomachs were starting to settle.

It was Ollie's day, so we headed to the Bua Tong "Sticky" Waterfalls. Our morning began with a tranquil walk along the Pai River, where a chance encounter with a monk offered a quiet reminder of vitaraga, the art of detachment and freedom from desire. Funny how a few twists, illness, a tip from friends and Ollie's planning turned the Pai detour into a highlight. The waterfalls didn't disappoint either. Just north of Chiang Mai, the grippy limestone let us climb through cascading tiers using ropes, surrounded by lush forest. Free, fun and off the beaten path.

Back in Chiang Mai, we checked into Zara's pick: Kate & Hasu Boutique Chiangmai. Spotless rooms, good Wi-Fi, tiny gym, rooftop views. James glanced longingly at the new InterContinental from the rooftop balcony. I nudged him to say thanks to Zara. Dinner was at Adirak near Wat Umong, pizza, at the kids' request, followed by a TikTok-famous stir-fried ice cream in the Old City, whipped up with flair by a charismatic trans vendor providing a sweet end to a solid day.

Zara wanted ziplining. Not our idea of fun, but this trip wasn't about us. She confidently navigated us to Huay Tung Tao Lake where we scored two ziplines for $40. It was hot, we were cranky, and it felt like James and I were the teens now. Then I realised, maybe this is how they feel when we plan everything? Lesson two: let them lead sometimes. You might just find a new side to your kid, and to yourself.

Desperate for a swim, we vetoed the murky coloured lake and begged for alternatives. Zara found Mae Sa Waterfall. Within 30 minutes, we were soaking in cool forest pools, restored. Lunch was stir-fried veggies at a local roadside joint, Him Nam Mae Cha.

Ollie's final pick: the Buddhist temple Wat Phra That Doi Suthep. We wound our way up the mountain, tensions rising over parking and narrow roads. But at the summit? The view was unforgettable. After returning the rental, we were starving and neither Ollie nor Zara had any suggestions for lunch. I did. Woo Cafe, a tip from a travel writer that I'd been holding onto. Clean food, curated art, desserts and flowers, it was my kind of place. Possibly feeling smug, I gladly led the way.

On the walk back, Zara suggested a detour to Into The Woods Cafe. On the way out, James claimed he'd pulled a hamstring on a sidewalk pothole. Without missing a beat, Zara flagged us tuk-tuks. Watching her take charge was as thrilling as the ride through the Old City. "Mum," she said, "let's leave Dad to rest and hit the Sunday night markets." She'd seen them on TikTok, artisan crafts, sizzling street food, and knock-off jewellery for her mates. I followed her lead.

I wanted this trip to teach them independence - how to plan, budget, and value experience over luxury. Maybe that was a big ask. But we shared the load, weathered the mood swings, and adapted when plans went sideways. If nothing else, they learned to take the lead, and - lesson three - I learned how to let go.