Playing It Safe… Until We Didn’t

We’ve been playing it pretty safe these past few months. Not really risking as much as a bus journey. So, to keep us on our toes and obviously to provide a wonderful look at how we transport ourselves, we decided to visit my Dad.

My dad lives in the Fleet area, about an hour’s drive away… but remember, we don’t drive. So we get to go the more scenic route.

Saturday morning: Summer off to jiujitsu, River and I packing for our night away. The morning ran away from me and we ended up leaving after lunch with what I hoped was everything we needed…

I tell River we’re going to Grandad’s house.
“GRANDPA!” he squeals back.
We have never referred to my dad as Grandpa but I’ll take the excitement.

I was a bit vague about the extent of the journey, something I feel impacted things later.

Train 1: Gummies, Screaming & Zero Escape Routes

Summer came armed with charged devices, books and toys and off we went:
Leg 1: Uber to the station.
All fine. The train was delayed, which was ideal.

River was in a good mood on the platform. He only tried to run onto the tracks once.

Train arrives. He hops on happily, walks down the carriage, sits down. Summer and I sit opposite. Kike stands by the door because it’s crowded.

I give River two mini packs of gummies. Summer asks for Coke bottles, so I give her her own pack.

Then:

“GUMMIES! MY GUMMIES!”

Summer panics, throws her open pack at him just to make him stop. He does NOT stop.

Cue screaming.
Ear-splitting screaming.
The kind of screaming that makes you suddenly aware you’re on public transport and cannot legally eject yourself.

I sit on the floor next to him, silently showing him the TWO FULL PACKS he has… but it makes no difference.

Kike decides he is Switzerland and stays by the door pretending not to know us. Summer flees to him.

I get comfortable on the floor and squeeze River’s hand. The whole carriage is watching. I know there’s nothing I can do.

He screams for 14 minutes without a break.

At minute 15 he has one of his absent seizures. Honestly, my brain also needed a time-out.

The journey is 16 minutes long.
We get off at Clapham with two minutes of peace.

Train 2: Sleep, Podcasts & Calm

Straight onto train number 2, he does NOT want to get on another train but he’s tired and a bit dizzy so we manage it.

Luckily it’s empty.
Within seconds he falls asleep. Head on my backpack, still in his coat with backpack on.
We exhale, put on our headphones, each listen to our own podcasts.
Blissful 20 minutes.

Train 3: Platform Meltdown & Costa Therapy

Time to change trains. We wake him.
“Grandpa’s house?!”
Sadly not.
One more train.

He dramatically launches himself face-down onto the platform:
“NOOOOO! NO TRAINS!!!”

Kike announces he would like a fancy caramel frozen Costa drink. He gestures to the shop. I look at River on the floor.
“He’s fine,” Kike reassures me.

Summer and I go to Costa.
River spots us at the window, sees his gingerbread man and juice waiting for him and instantly stops shouting. He joins us silently.

Kike and I chat as if nothing has happened. This is just how it is now.
What used to cause embarrassment and stress now… just is.
We try our best. We keep him safe. He will be ok.

Final train: he reluctantly gets on.
We arrive.
“Grandpa’s house?”
YES.
Grandpa is waiting and River beams.

Grandpa’s House: Owl Eggs, Chiming Clocks & No iPlayer

Three hours after setting off, we arrive.

Grandpa’s house = treasure trove.
Stairs! Proper stairs!
Old toys!
And… delicate Laura-Ashley-circa-1980 ornaments.

River finds a carved wooden owl and two marble eggs:
“Owl eggs,” he whispers, “Baby owls.”

Normally I’d panic about breakage. Today I let it go.

He opens and closes the DVD player repeatedly.
And then, the clock.

A giant, real, old-fashioned chiming clock.

Every quarter of an hour a small chime: “THE CLOCK.” River shouts.
Every hour: he counts the chimes.

We can NEVER have that clock in our house.

Dinner = takeaway.
TV time… except my dad has actual television. Not Netflix. Not iPlayer.
Television with channels.

Summer is appalled.

“Mum just go to iPlayer.”
“There is no iPlayer.”
“Why would anyone not have THAT?”

She disappears with her iPad.
River returns to his owl eggs. All is well.

Sleep, Chimes & 7am Wake-Up Call

River sleeps with me.
Kike sleeps with a cat hiding under his bed.

Summer plays into the night content in her own room filled with toys.

River actually sleeps pretty well, only a couple of stirs and a near roll off the bed.

At 7am the clock chimes.

DING.
DING.
DING.

I lie still. He was literally snoring two minutes ago.

DING.
DING.
DING.

He can’t possibly hear this.

DING

“THE CLOCK!! MUMMY GET UP!”

And that’s that.

A Tudor Pub, Road Signs & The Long Way Home

We went for a walk later, trying again to build up River’s distance without the pushchair. He actually did really well but it turned into quite a long walk because he has recently decided that we must read out loud every single house name, road sign and vaguely letter-shaped object we pass.
“WOODLANDS.”
“CHURCH LANE.”
“NO PARKING.”
Every one.
It was… thorough.

Eventually we arrived at a very traditional English pub, Tudor beams everywhere, dark wood, old paintings of people who definitely didn’t smile. Apparently, Catherine of Aragon once visited the area so they’ve fully leaned in. It was quaint though and Kike and I do love a Sunday roast, so we settled in.

There was a little play area right next to the road (always relaxing…) but somehow we made it work and managed to have a nice time.

Then it was time to head back to Grandpa’s and begin the journey home. I’d picked just two trains and a final Uber this time. River was much better, the first train was quiet, he was tired from the day and he settled down with his iPad without any drama.

As we travelled, I found myself thinking back to the meltdown the day before.
Maybe I hadn’t explained the journey clearly enough.
Maybe the carriage was too crowded.
Maybe his backpack was bothering him because he wouldn’t take it off.
Maybe his bucket was already half-full before we even stepped onto the platform.

I’ve been learning more and more about sensory awareness at school and at home and the reality is: even if I can control many factors in his life, there will always be one I forget or can’t control and sometimes that’s enough to tip everything over.

The Bucket Theory

I’ve been learning more about sensory overload and the idea of the “bucket.”

Every tiny stress adds a bit of water.
A loud noise.
A busy platform.
The feeling of a strap rubbing on his shoulder.
Waiting when he doesn’t understand why.
Being tired.
Being hungry.
A sister “stealing” gummies (even when she absolutely isn’t).

And the thing is, none of these on their own cause a meltdown. But once the bucket is full, it only takes the smallest extra drop for everything to spill over. And when it spills, there’s no stopping it until it’s done.

Yesterday was a completely full-bucket day.

Why We Stay Close to Home… And Why We Still Try

You can probably see why we tend to stay within a 2-mile radius of our house. It’s safe, it’s predictable and most importantly, I can control most of the things that keep River’s bucket from overflowing. Familiar shops, familiar routes, familiar people, familiar TV shows with a Halloween blanket.

But we will keep pushing the boundaries, just slowly. I know we can’t stay in our little radius forever. We’ll keep trying new things, taking deep breaths and sitting through the moments of distress quietly but supportively because that’s the only thing that works.

And the truth is, even the hard adventures are still adventures. They don’t always look like other families’ days out, ours involve trains, gummies, careful planning and the occasional dramatic collapse on a platform but they’re still memories. And River deserves to see the world, even if we have to take it one carefully-managed, sensory-considered step at a time.