PookyH

Forty odd miles into a day on the tandem, looking like we’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, we spotted a little chalk board saying ‘Bar open’ and very nearly cycled straight past it. I’m so glad we didn’t.

We wheeled past a Rolls Royce in the car park, propped up our rather battered bike made for two and were met by Emma, who greeted us with such enthusiasm you’d have thought we’d arrived in the Rolls. She was wonderfully bubbly about the bubbly, and we sat in the sunshine drinking sparkling wine made from grapes grown right where we were sitting. I had the rosé and it was glorious.

Two things. The loveliest times are so often the unexpected ones, the ones you’d miss if you kept pedalling, so do stop when you see the ‘bar open’ sign. And a genuinely lovely, bubbly human can make anyone feel they belong, whatever they turned up on. Emma didn’t save her warmth for the fancy car. She welcomed us, sweaty and dishevelled and delighted, and made our whole day.

, the wine was delicious and the welcome even better. We hope to happen past you again.

Belonging is never about how you arrive. It’s about who’s there to greet you when you do… right?

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗼'𝘀 "𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁" 𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲.

Most of us know about fight, flight and freeze responses. But fawn, the appease response, is the one we miss most often, because it looks like exactly what we want: a compliant, eager to please, well behaved child.

𝗙𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱.
The child has learned that the safest strategy is to become whatever the adult in authority needs them to be. If I make you happy, you won't hurt me. If I agree with everything, there will be no conflict. If I'm useful, I'm safe.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴.
It's surviving at enormous cost: exhaustion, and the slow erosion of who they are. For neurodivergent children, fawn is often closely linked to masking, and it's frequently invisible to the adults who benefit from it.

𝗪𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴.
A fawning child makes our job easier. They don't cause trouble. They do what we ask. But that doesn't mean they're okay.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝘀:
𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘁 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲.
Phrases like "It's okay to say you don't agree" or "I'm interested in what you actually think, not what you think I want to hear."

𝗥𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲
The disagreement as much as the agreement.

𝗠𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻
So getting things wrong looks survivable.

𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁
Then keep proving it when they test you.

𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴. A child who never disagrees is not thriving. They're surviving. Our job is to make it safe enough for them to be themselves.

--
Please share this if you know someone who needs to understand this.

𝟳 𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘀: 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗦𝗵𝘂𝘁𝘀 𝗗𝗼𝘄𝗻

Free session next Tuesday for professionals & parents/carers

Book here: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/7-quick-wins-supporting-the-child-who-shuts-down-tickets-1981854038780

Please share with anyone who'd find it useful

(Recording & notes sent to everyone who books)

7 Quick Wins: Supporting the Child Who Shuts Down Join us for another practical 7 Quick Wins session. This time we're exploring how to support children who experience shut down.

Residentials and sleepovers can carry a lot of worry, for the child and for the adults around them. Will they eat, will they sleep, will they want to come home in the night.

If your autistic child has been on their first residential or sleepover, please share how it went: what happened, what helped, and anything you wish you'd known.

Teachers and TAs, please add your side too, and do share the happy stories as well, the kids who surprised everyone and had a brilliant time.

The more we hear from each other here, the more reassured the next worried parent/carer will feel, so please add your experience below for others to learn from.

𝗘𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲𝘁𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁, in how we greet a child, how we react when they tell us something hard, and whether we come back to put things right.

Children who feel emotionally safe can regulate, learn, and trust us with the difficult stuff. Children who don't, go quiet, or loud, or vanish.

Here are five things that make a difference:

𝟭. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲: Not the same mood every day, but the same fundamental adult. We can't be Miss Honey on Monday and Miss Trunchbull on Tuesday. When a child has to scan our face to work out which version of us they've got, they can't relax into being with us.

𝟮. 𝗨𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗰𝗸𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲: Children fear being judged, so your face needs to stay kind even when the words are hard. Pausing before you react, even a count to five, gives you space for a more considered response.

𝟯. 𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿: Things will go wrong, and that's okay. The problem is when wrong becomes permanent; a short, sincere "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I'm sorry" teaches a child more than never messing up ever could.

𝟰. 𝗟𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘂𝗽: Children read your face, body and tone in a split second. A smile that gets there before the words. Stopping mid-task to say a happy hello. It tells them: you're a welcome thing in my day, not a job on my list.

𝟱. 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: When a child tells you something difficult, they're watching to see whether you take it seriously. Believe them. Sit with it. Resist the urge to fix or minimise. "That makes sense, no wonder you've been finding things hard" does more than any solution.

𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲. Nobody does. The children in your life don't need you perfect. They need to know that even when you fall short, you'll come back. That's emotional safety.

--
Please share this if you want the adults around the children in your life to hear it.

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆'𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘆.

The coat on the floor, the voice that's too loud, the feet on the chair, the way they came through the door. By the time you actually need them to listen, they feel like you've spent the whole morning telling them off.

When correction keeps bouncing off the same child, the instinct is to be firmer and clearer. But every correction is a small withdrawal from your relationship with that child, and a child who is corrected all day is usually running an overdraft before you've opened your mouth.

Correcting harder only confirms what they already suspect, that you are one more adult who notices what they get wrong.

𝗔 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁.
Correction from an adult a child trusts is useful information. Correction from an adult they don't trust reads as one more attack and a brain that feels under attack isn't learning, it's defending.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗽.
Connection isn't a programme you haven't got time for. It's tiny, frequent deposits, thirty seconds at a time, several times a day. A few that cost almost nothing:

𝟭. 𝗚𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆'𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹.
Most of the attention a corrected child gets is for getting something wrong. This is attention that isn't.

𝟮. 𝗔𝘀𝗸 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗮𝘆.
It shows them you hold them in mind when they're not in front of you.

𝟯. 𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱.
Almost every interaction a child has with an adult asks something of them. For a demand-avoidant child especially, a demand-free moment is special.

And do it before you need it. The moment you most need a child to trust you is the worst time to start earning it. You can't open the account in a crisis. The relationship that holds when things fall apart is the one you built on ordinary days.

𝗡𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲.

--
Please share this if it would help someone.