There was a knock on the front door. A flash of blonde hair rushed past me, up the stairs and into his room. I opened the door. “Hi, I’m Lisa,” said the visitor. “The hairdresser.” I welcomed her in. “He’s run upstairs,” I said. “That’s OK,” she replied. Lisa was used to this. She has kids with autism herself and specialises in cutting the hair of the likes of DS1. I went upstairs to find

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It’s about time we had a new acronym. Last week, I met an Ehco. No, not the talkative electronic device that Amazon is pimping (I know the spelling is different, but the pronunciation is the same), but a woman from the special educational needs team at the local borough council (unfortunately, her name wasn’t Alexa). To give her her full title, she is an EHCP Co-ordinator. Her job is to assess – or rather to

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The other day we were doing some quizzes on a Harry Potter website. The format was multiple-choice, but when DS1 didn’t know the answer he steadfastly refused to guess. “You do it,” he said, hiding his face with his hands, not wanting to see the outcome. “Why don’t you want to guess?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Is it because you’re scared of getting it wrong?” “Yes.” A couple of questions later, he went into meltdown

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A miracle occurred the other day. We were over the park playing football, sweating like pigs in the boiling sun. “Be good to have a shower after this won’t it,” I said. “OK.” I nearly fainted on the spot. “What?” I managed to not exclaim out loud. Did my ears deceive me? Had he just agreed to have a shower? The last time he had one of those was in 2015. Washing is not DS1’s

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