As the second eldest of five, I have had my fair share of family holidays.Most summers my parents, Sybilla and Charlie, take me, my older brother, Isaac, 19, younger sisters Florence, 15, Celestia, eight, and baby brother, Benny, on a trip to either France or Norfolk, where they find new ways of mortifying us each year.Forget mosquitoes, wasps and sunburn – take it from me, parents are by far the most irritating things for children on holiday.So, here’s my guide for parents about how to not embarrass their children this year.Keep us off your FacebookLet’s dive right into the deep end and talk about how my mother is the absolute definition of a ‘Facebook Mum’.It all starts with the endless, badly angled selfies (in a series of fast fashion, matchy-matchy, printed shorts and crop tops) in front of sunsets posted on Instagram.Then there’s the constant cajoling us to ‘get a nice group shot’ when I’ve had no time to do my hair or think about my outfit – which my friends will see back home (they follow her for the laughs).I see her phone come out and duck. Bea Hart, 16, says her mum is the absolute definition of a 'Facebook Mum' and whenever she sees Sybilla's phone come out she ducksPlease can we fly for once?OK, I know the stats. Flying is terrible for the environment and horrifically expensive, yadda yadda yadda, but please could we make an exception? Just once?My friends can’t believe that the last time I went on a plane was when I was three.They always insist on taking the ferry and driving – cramming all seven of us, plus luggage, and no roof rack to speak of – into one vehicle for a two-day, 800-mile odyssey to Provence.We’re like a travelling circus on La Route du Soleil from Paris to the Mediterranean, and draw a crowd on our pit-stops, when people gather to stare at us literally spilling out of the car, followed by a million bags. In the service station, while Mum blocks the aisles, taking selfies in front of the crisps, Dad leads a herd of cooped up, hysterical children, demanding McDonalds, Kinder Buenos, biscuits, Coca-Cola and fruit-flavoured Tic Tacs (which everyone is going to regret back in the car later).Florence and I walk a good 10ft behind (we have a 10ft distance rule at all times), trying to look like we don’t know who these mad people are.Don’t use our slangEvery summer my parents like to set themselves a new challenge – like a school holiday reading list for old people – and ‘hop on a few trends’. I can’t describe how excruciating this is.The worst one must be when Mum discovers a new slang word that our generation uses, and it becomes like a vocal tic.Listening to her chucking words like ‘bants’ and ‘peak’ into conversations over dinner, in a crowded restaurant… just… awful.They’re ‘our’ friendsWe’ve been coming to Norfolk for a few years now, and have a few local friends, whom Mum tries to get to know too – introducing herself in the High Street and in the local pub, where my younger siblings eat chicken nuggets every night.Once we were walking down the road, and she was drawing up a mental map, asking me (very loudly, and during a heatwave when everyone had their windows open): ‘Is this where so-and-so lives?’ and ‘Who lives here? Is he nice? What do his parents do?’ 'Mum tried to enforce a phone ban once for a week in Norfolk and it nearly ruined my life, as well as my holiday,' writes BeaAvoid fashion faux pas...I’ve already touched upon Mum’s sometimes dreadful clothes, now let’s get on to Dad. Up until last week he didn’t own any swimming trunks and so he would swim in his boxer shorts up and down the Blakeney estuary which drew some extremely odd looks.After some serious nagging from Florence and me to up his game, Dad did buy himself a pair of Tom’s Trunks – cult cotton trousers favoured by teens, which my older brother and I wear. But he wears them pulled up practically to his armpits and, paired with his red glasses and gilet, he looks ridiculous....for my baby bro, tooMy baby brother Benny is only seven and really doesn’t care what he wears. And sadly, neither does Mum.I’m not exaggerating when I say during our last trip, he wore the same Minecraft top and too-small blue shorts every single night for dinner.The pub owner knows him from his outfit. I see my friends’ younger siblings dressed in little linen trousers and Ralph Lauren polos and then they see mine.Thankfully, I managed to find some nice clothes in his wardrobe and dressed him like all the other children and saved myself – and him – any further embarrassment.And forget phone bansOn balance, the most serious thing any parent can do to ruin their child’s holiday is trying to instigate a ‘phone detox’.Mum tried this once for a week in Norfolk and it nearly ruined my life, as well as my holiday.Local friends were texting me to meet up – and I was none the wiser.When I eventually got my phone back towards the end of the holiday, I had a whole bunch of messages from my pals who all thought I didn’t like them any more.To make matters worse, my best friend at home genuinely thought something awful had happened to me. So she had a bunch of people message me and ask me if I was OK – which obviously I couldn’t reply to.Taking your teenager’s phone away is definitely the single best way to ruin their holiday.Luckily, my Facebook Mum has got such a serious phone habit herself now that she hasn’t repeated the experiment.