“I don’t like Playschool”

So meltdown moo does not like playschool.  Anyone who asks him will get this answer.  Well that is if they ask him over an hour after he gets home from said playschool, as in the golden hour after picking him up he loves it.   Now you might wonder why, if we’re home educating, does Milo go to pre school?  Well it is mainly for the social interaction.  He goes to a special pre-school and it just helps him to be around other people and we have yet to find a home education group where he isn’t ostracized or dare I say, bullied.  We’re visiting a new one on Thursday so I have my fingers crossed for that.


Anyhow Moo always hates Tuesdays as he has playschool and “special group”.  Special group is fine as it is another group with autistic children and he loves the play leader.  She is the only adult outside the family who he can tolerate.  But playschool, No.


This morning played out much like it does every playschool day.  A battle of wills.  You see M has a remarkable memory sometimes (seriously it’s ridiculous) but equally he forgets simples words, concepts etc and the fact that actually once he’s settled down, he actually rather likes playschool.


Today, like every morning he got very annoyed as we wouldn’t accept his authority:

M: “I’m in charge, everyone must do ever tis I say”

Me: “No”

M: “I am”

Me: “You’re going to play school….”

M: “uuurghhhhhhgh  grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” [plus lots of other guttural moaning, hand flapping, head hitting, violence, etc}

This carried on for quite some time.  Most of the time I am sat there ignoring it, trying to work/get his sister ready for playschool.  When his sister leaves (they have to be taken separately as M couldn’t cope with dropping his sister off somewhere else), it is then my turn to get him dressed.  This is basically like trying to put clothes on a dead body when rigor mortis has set in and they died in an odd position: nigh on impossible.

When this is finally achieved Dad returns to try and put him in the car.  Cue more screaming, histrionics and more promises of birthday and holiday cancellation to no avail.  In the end he lands up being carried out of the house whilst trying to make his body fill every available space (think Tom in Tom and Jerry when he’s trying to fill a door space).

An hour later the Dad arrives back.

Me: “How was it today?”

Dad: “Particularly bad”

Me: “Oh”

Dad: “He attacked them, scratched the walls….”

Me: “did he cry?

Dad: “Well he made that noise [gggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr urggghhhhhhhh  wahhhhhh] and they has to drag him back in”

Me: “Oh”

Dad: “Yes”

The worst thing is at this point we begin to laugh for this is life with Meltdown Moo and after a while it becomes normal and, dare I say it, funny…..


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