Day 1: Dawnosaurs

Woke up at 6am, not normally awake at this time even when I’m working, let alone during the holidays. But today was the first day, and as people who know me will tell you… I start strong and then slowly decline, both physically and mentally.
So we’re starting with a bang!

Today was the first of our pre-booked SEND days in London: Dawnosaurs at the Natural History Museum. And yes, it really did feel like dawn. Everyone up, dressed, bags packed, and heading to the bus stop by 7:30am.

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Planning the Journey

I’d told River the night before that we were going to the museum, and he was excited.
But I’ve learned I can’t skip steps. (There was that disastrous farm trip where I forgot to mention we were taking a train… ending in a meltdown outside the Co-op. Lesson learned.)

So I laid it out clearly:

“River, first we leave the house, then bus, then train, then walk… then museum.”
He nodded. “I love museum!”
We even had shoes on – a major win.

We’re lucky to live in London, so the journey was about 45 minutes.
Only hiccup: the accessible entrance to the museum was closed, which meant a long detour with stairs.
For context, we don’t drive and for safety and sensory regulation, River uses a pushchair.

Accessibility really does matter.

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A Museum to Ourselves

When we arrived, the staff and security were incredibly kind.
Stepping into an empty museum made the early start worth it.
River ran freely through the halls, calling out birds and animals, bothering no one. No fear of losing him. No judging stares.

He loves Andy’s Dinosaur Adventures, so of course we went straight to the dinosaur gallery.
We walked the (almost empty) exhibition twice, and he greeted the T-Rex with pure joy.

The museum had laid on lots of great activities, though River wasn’t interested. That’s okay.
Just watching him run freely and confidently in a space that usually overwhelms was enough.
Exhausting… but amazing.

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Tag-Team Parenting

Luckily, Kike was able to join us for the first part of the visit.
Honestly, I don’t know how I’d have managed alone.

How do you split yourself between two children with such different needs?
One sprinting from exhibit to exhibit; the other calmly completing a bar graph about pond species.

We wrapped up around 10.10am, ten minutes after the museum opened to the public.
River loves a YouTube video about earthquakes and volcanoes, so I really wanted to take him to the ‘Earthquake simulator’. He enjoyed it, but I could feel him shutting down.

When River gets mentally overstimulated, he physically shuts down. He goes into his pushchair and zones out. If he’s not removed from the stimulation or given a coping mechanism (like his iPad), distress escalates – fast.

And just like that, about 100 German teenagers surrounded us and the crowds were rolling in.

Kike had left by then.
Just me, River in the pushchair, Summer… and the maze that is finding the hidden lifts.
Thankfully, my teacher life means I’ve visited enough times to navigate a relatively swift exit.

As we passed the growing queue outside, Summer turned to me and said:

“It’s lucky River has autism. I would have hated that queue.”
Her honesty made me smile. Not sure how I felt about it but she wasn’t wrong.

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Homeward (and Screenward) Bound

Because of the pushchair, we had to walk 40 minutes to reach an accessible tube station.
River needed a screen by that point. I hadn’t brought the iPad (a mistake not to be repeated), so the phone it was.

It did mean Summer and I had some rare quiet time, chatting and laughing at Greggs while River was zoned out and happy.

We were home by 12pm, though it felt like 6pm.

Kids: straight on their iPads.
Me: emptied the dishwasher, put away the washing, loaded another, did the online shop, made lunch.

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The Afternoon Stretch

We are a screen family. There are no strict limits here, sometimes screen time is survival and a necessity for River.

Still, I set a little goal for myself today: screens off around 2pm.
(I know, just two hours what a hero.)

They came off around 2:15. (Just after I’d put out the load of washing)

And the next hour?
It felt like the longest of the day.

River doesn’t play with toys in the ‘regular’ way. He never has.
He likes the idea of them — so if I put toys out, he’ll approach, but the interest fades fast.

In that hour, we rotated through:

• pop-up tent
• box of cars
• play mat
• bowling ball and pins

Each for maybe four minutes.

Eventually, he settled into his favourite: pouring water in and out of a watering can.
That calms him. And honestly, it calms me too.

Summer made banana bread during all this. Lots of “Yes you can do the eggs” / “Don’t worry it’s only sugar it can be cleaned up” / “No, I’d rather you didn’t lick the spoon” / “Yes, the bananas do look gross but they’ll taste good.”

River’s comfort words are: “Mum” or “Mummy.”
I hear it constantly.
I cried for months when River was pre-verbal, wondering if I’d ever hear him call me mummy.

I’ve thought about doing a counter out of curiosity – it’s easily now over 100 times a day.

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The Wind-Down

At 3:20pm, I put a film on. That gave us 65 minutes of calm.
Two kids, one blanket, one screen. Peace.

Kike arrived home. Dinner happened.

Then… I hit a wall.
A sudden headache. I went to lie down and instantly fell asleep for 30 minutes.

Woke up just in time for garden play and the bedtime countdown. Kike is out this evening so Summer is back to Roblox and it’s me and my boy.

When CBeebies goes on, I know we’re in the final stretch.

It was an early start with no nap, River can’t fight sleep forever.
I love watching him jump on his tip-toes and spin, smiling to himself.
I now know this is how he regulates before sleep.

It’ll be time for big hugs soon, he loves deep pressure and physical contact.

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He’s fading. I’m fading.

Day 1: survived.
Tomorrow… we go again.

The banana bread was good.
Well done, Summer.