The Coat Conundrum (and the “Big Bike”)

Saturday evening, just the kids and I for a rainy Saturday as Kike had a work thing. I think all 3 of us just wanted a chilled day, so that’s exactly what we’ve had. I got various toys out for River to walk round, mainly settling on a rainbow pinwheel. Summer requested her Lego so that took over the table.

I lay on my bed watching yet another coming-of-age show. This one is very odd, it’s in German but set in England – but I’m not going to let one small detail ruin my fun.

And because it’s the 1st of December on Monday, I thought we should get the Christmas decorations out. River loved tipping the contents of the box (including many baubles) all over the floor and bless Summer, she asked if she could do the tree this year because “I’m old enough.” Sounds great to me.

Job done.

While ‘Is It Cake? Holiday Special‘ is playing in the background, I thought I’d write about two things that happened this week.

1. “River has told us he swallowed a toy.”

On Wednesday I received a text from school. I’d missed a call earlier and sighed, I had plans that evening, so naturally something had happened.

Here is the exact message:

“The school office has tried to contact you to let you know that River has told us he “swallowed a toy”. He seems fine, he has continued playing and is now having a snack. He has told us it was a “ball” a “marble” a “dice” and a “big bike”. We have dice out in nursery this week but not any marbles or balls? It could have been a ball of playdough?”

I stopped. Re-read it.
He doesn’t swallow toys anymore… does he? A marble? A dice?

I ring Kike, he’s already there.

“He’s fine. He’s right in front of me,” he says.

Then Summer grabs the phone, full of big-sister indignation:

“He hasn’t swallowed anything! He’s been watching ‘There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly’ on repeat for days.”

Of course.
I looked again at the message, the part about swallowing a “big bike” suddenly made much more sense. It was actually pretty funny. I laughed imagining myself marching into A&E demanding an X-ray to locate a missing bicycle.

Jokes aside. I was grateful they told us though. Since the tooth incident we’ve asked for updates and genuinely… he could have swallowed something.
When he first started Nursery, we did discover a few digested craft materials.

Fun fact: Our bodies don’t digest fluffy pom poms.

2. The Coat Situation

Winter has arrived and getting the kids out of bed in the cold and dark has become… trickier. Summer hates leaving her warm cave. River doesn’t care, he’s up at 6.30 with his torch.

The main issue, however:
The coat.

A month ago both children got new coats. It was all fine, until suddenly it wasn’t. And River absolutely refuses to wear his.

And I mean refuses: the screams, the tears, the dramatic collapse to the floor.

Kike tried all his usual approaches, removing the iPad, offering gummies, just putting it on him while he screams.
None of it worked.

I tried too.
Still nothing.

So I said:

“He’s not missing school because of a coat. Take him without it.”

Nursery won’t let him outside without one, so now he simply stays indoors. And oddly, he’s fine with that.
Which tells me everything I need to know.

For the last few months I’ve been researching and designing a Sensory Room for school. I spend my evenings reading about dysregulation and how to help children feel safe and secure. I’ve been learning all about the eight senses, yes, eight. The usual five, plus the three sneaky internal ones: balance, body awareness and interoception: the sense that interprets hunger, thirst, pain, fullness.

And as I read, so many things from River’s early years suddenly click into place.

When he was two, he once screamed for hours non-stop. Proper, body-shaking, throat-tearing screaming. It was so intense I nearly took him to A&E because I thought something must be really wrong, like he was in unbearable pain.
But no.
He was hungry.
His body simply couldn’t process or communicate it yet.

The toe-walking, the spinning, the jumping. All the stuff that used to puzzle me, now I know he was seeking heavy pressure and movement to regulate himself. To ground himself.

Which brings me back to the coat.

Why should I force him to wear something that is clearly causing dysregulation? A year ago he didn’t have the words and he would’ve just screamed. Today he still can’t explain exactly what’s wrong, but he is communicating and loudly that the coat is wrong for him. So wrong that he skipped going outside at Nursery (his favourite thing to do) rather than put it on.

The coat isn’t a battle of wills. It’s sensory.
I don’t know what’s wrong with it? Maybe the lining, the weight, the warmth, the cut, the zip, the texture, the colour. I may never know.

Is it frustrating? A bit.
A waste of money? Yes, but someone else will use it.
Worth traumatising him over every morning?
Absolutely not.

So the coat has vanished.

Kike’s solution is that he wears his raincoat, which he calls his “shirt” with a scarf and my National Autistic Society beanie. (which I thought was a nice touch) Thermal vests are on the way. It’s an eight-minute walk. He’s not trekking the Alps.

It’s not forever. He went through the no-shoes phase and came out the other side.
We’ll try again with a fleece-type coat in a few weeks.

Lanzarote Loading…

Three weeks until Christmas break and we’re going away again, Lanzarote.
Time to reread the Ibiza part of the blog and remind myself of everything we need to prepare for.
Probably purchase actual suitcases would be a good first step.
But I’m cautiously excited.

And best of all:
He definitely won’t need a coat there.