It’s always been the pushchair. The combination of extreme youth + autism = running in the opposite direction / launching self into the road / (his favourite) staging a sit-down protest. Right there. Where he stands sits.
But we all love walking, and with five boys, it’s a necessity to let off some steam. Plus, we have a rather ambitious longer term plan, which feels like a fairly bonkers pipe dream just now…
But first things first. That is, first we need to get Ted walking. Preferably in a similar direction to everyone else.
We had a fairly hairy outing to Cow Green. It’s easy to forget, as the winter sun beats down on your front door, and snowdrops dare to poke their noses above ground, that just a half-hour’s drive can land you in an entirely different climate.
Our vehicle of many seats headed valiantly up the road, only to almost get stuck in snow, so we abandoned the ascent to the reservoir, and opted for a footpath lower down instead.
Ted. Was. A. Superstar.
He was thrilled with the snow, distracted by brothers walking behind him, (so everyone moved out in front), he headed for every puddle and, when he realised he really was pushchair-free and independent, set off at a trot along the path.
This great success was hotly pursued by a second. It isn’t easy going out for a meal with Baby Baggins. There are a hundred and one potential meltdown triggers: one parent needs to go and order at the bar / go to the bathroom, he’s expected to sit still for too long, somehow or other he doesn’t have what he needs / wants / has a sudden left-field yen for…
But today, we were prepared.
First, the pub was child-friendly and the food was good. And then, from my magic handbag, I produced Lightning McQueen…
…and Mater…
…and Mr Potato Head.
Sorted.
The Ted Diaries 