Club

It’s nice to belong.

My daughter used to go to Guides, and loved it: the songs and promises, the rituals and rules, the church parades and camps, and the whole Hitler Youthy uniform thing.

After we moved house, she couldn’t go to her old group where many of the girls had known her since nursery and primary school. She joined the troop in our new town, but 

was a bit shy, complained of being tired by the time it finished, and made a decision not to go any more.

We’ve been trying to think of an earlier activity that could replace it, and give her a bit of social interaction and stimulation out of school hours. And, by George, I think we’ve got it! 

Today, she started After School Club. It’s two hours on a Monday, where the minibus picks her up from her satellite class at mainstream school and trundles her up to the special school secondary site.  

Her younger friend Bethany was there (I’d checked her days with her mum and deliberately synchronised my girl’s attendance).

They had a great time. Most of it, I gather, spent cutting out and sticking every item from the four pages of Hello Kitty branded goods in the Argos catalogue, which they have decided they are going to present as a shopping list to the headteacher, entitled: ‘Toys we need for After School Club.’ Good luck with that, girls.

How do I know it was a proper success, though?

My daughter, the one with Prader-Willi Syndrome, the one who never physically feels full up and who has her tea at 5pm on the dot, announced pointedly to me when I picked her up at 5.30pm: “I really don’t mind having a late tea, mum.”

Fulsome praise, I can assure you, doesn't come any fulsomer.

Song is Ray Charles - At The Club

Related posts:

Friend

Friend (update)

Camp

Friend (Update)

My teenage daughter went round her mate’s house after school yesterday.

They did the normal stuff teenagers do: sneaked some Bacardi Breezers upstairs; talked about who they’d like to snog at the school disco; and popped out to Boots to nick some lipsticks.

Well, no. I'm kidding. They didn’t actually do any of these things. What they did was play with dollies for two hours.

Bethany, her new friend - in fact the first friend she has ever made herself - goes to the same special school as my daughter.

A month or so ago, she came round to tea at our house (see post Friend). Yesterday was the return trip. My girl had already packed her doll in a bag five days before, not wanting to forget it.

And I’d already done my preparation. I’d had The Food Conversation with Bethany’s mum, asking her to give my daughter the relatively healthy, quick and easy Fishfinger Special. (Fish Fingers, jacket potato and peas). I’d also packed a low-fat pudding in her school bag, and a low-calorie snack bar. 

With Prader-Willi Syndrome, field rations still have to be monitored from HQ, you see.

It wasn't exactly a late night. My girl was delivered back home just after 6.30pm. Probably equally as tired as a non-PWS teenager rolling in it at midnight after a cider-fuelled house party.

Tired and happy. Still dressed in her spotty socks, spotty leggings and spotty nightshirt she’d worn to school for Children In Need Day.

My child is in need of a lot of things. But last night was good. Because she wasn’t in need of a friend. 

Video is The Go Team - Friendship Update

Friend

Making friends is something kids are really good at. It’s something they learn instinctively.

If you watch a bunch of children who don’t know eachother start to play together, you can see it happening naturally. Small tots will briefly check eachother out, and think: "You’re about the same size as me, let’s chase". Or in the case of my psycho son: "You're slightly smaller than me, I'm going to hit you", but he's not really a very good example.

Making friends when you’re a bit bigger needs a few more skills. You’ve got to be able to gauge how the other person is feeling. Ask them something about themselves and listen to what they tell you. Share some of your experiences with them. Be kind. Notice subtle facial signals and voice inflections.

My daughter has always struggled with this. When she was tiny, she played along with others. But the older she got, the more she always seemed to be on the periphery. Particularly in large groups of children. She didn’t really understand how it all worked. She’d be at the edge of the playground, watching, or sitting on a bench, her head down, chatting to herself.  At parties, she’d dance on her own. She’s always existed in her own personal bubble, cushioned and separate. It didn’t seem to upset her, overly. It was just her. The way she was. I often found it hard to watch.

But recently, she’s begun to get it. At special schools, they work hard on improving children’s social skills, and teaching them how to relate to one another. And I think, at long last, some of it is sinking in.

This week, she’s made a friend.

She told me all about Bethany, who she’s met at her new school, and bonded with over a shared love of Animal Hospital toys. She's talked about her pretty much non-stop, and also spent two evenings making numerous invitations for her to come to tea. This was all off her own bat. I was only there to help when it came to one question, the poignancy of which escaped her, but hit me, full-on.

"Mummy, how do you spell 'friend'?". 

I bumped into Bethany’s mum at the school gate and I told her how unusual it was for my girl to take the initiative, and how great it was that they were getting on so well.

Behind us, my loner daughter and her new friend were ambling along, deep in conversation, chatting away like old war buddies.

Bethany is coming to tea at our house on Thursday. This makes me quite extraordinarily happy.

Video is Flight Of The Conchords - Friends