Let’s talk about the park. That seemingly innocent patch of green where the sun sometimes shines, the swings sometimes swing, and other children somehow manage to leave without an entire carrier bag of twigs.
For many families, it’s a spontaneous outing. Shoes on. Out the door. Sandwiches optional.
For SEND families, it’s more of a mission.
First, the prep. The weather forecast is checked three times. Snacks are sorted into ‘must-have’, ‘only if asked nicely’, and ‘decoy options’. A social story is either printed, laminated, or acted out using Lego figures, depending on who’s awake. The favourite swing is discussed. So is the one swing we’re definitely not using again since ‘The Incident’.
Then the negotiations begin.
Because we don’t just go to the park. We preview. We plan. We pack like we’re off to Glastonbury. There’s sun cream, ear defenders, a weighted lap pad, and six types of sensory fidget toys. Plus spare socks. For everyone. Just in case.
And then, victory. You arrive. And for one shining moment, it looks like it might actually work. Until it doesn’t.
Maybe the roundabout’s “too spinny today”. Maybe another child is sitting in our swing. Or maybe someone (not naming names) has just remembered they only like this park on Thursdays when there are no smells.
Cue the deep breath. The check-in. The comfort object. The snack. The other snack. The third snack we swore we were saving for the journey home.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it works for seven minutes and that’s a massive win.
At other times, you find yourself explaining to a well-intentioned stranger why your child is lying flat on the grass, whispering the entire Paw Patrol theme tune while wearing one wellie. (It’s regulation. Don’t ask.)
And still, you go.
Because that park, with its unpredictable noises and unsupervised squirrels, is also where the magic sometimes happens. That moment your child reaches a new height, literally. Where they join in a game, just for a moment. Where you sit quietly on a bench, clutching lukewarm tea in a travel mug, watching them chase pigeons like they’re Olympic sprinters.
It’s not Instagram-perfect. It’s real life. Messy, beautiful, slightly chaotic real life.
And on the way home, with your child tired in the best way, your socks slightly damp for reasons unknown, and a pocket full of pebbles you didn’t mean to collect, you realise something.
You did it. You went to the park. And for your family, that’s not “just” anything.
Disclaimer: The information in this article is provided for general interest and should not be considered medical, therapeutic or educational advice. Families are encouraged to seek support from qualified professionals regarding individual needs or concerns.
