It was just a thought I had when I read your description.

This is a beautiful piece of writing.

I didn’t want the girls to feel badly or different, but the day was long, and we went back to the hotel early and defeated.

The next day, I swallowed my pride, and got two red passes and went that route. Our family split up: we went on the same rides but the twins and I could get in with assistance using the red pass (no overstimulating lines, long tiring waits) and the day was great.

The staff was amazing, really willing to help, and we met some really nice families who also took the “red pass”

It was a tough lesson to learn, and it stinks that sometime the most basic thing can trigger a meltdown or even worse, a seizure in kids that aren’t NT, but I think most places will modify for kids if we ask for help- the more of us that do, the better

My son isn’t very active. I learned long ago that if he was running around playing like all the other kids, he’d get ‘charged up’ and incapable of self-regulation – he couldn’t stop running without an emotional crash. It was sad to hear him tell his sister that he just can’t run much at all, and to know that he might always be physically hindered because of this self-regulation issue. But because we keep everything manageable, he doesn’t have meltdowns, he doesn’t need to crash first to stop.

Yes, Christmas is somewhat odd, because we have even slowed that down dramatically. We fill it with days of quiet family tradition and well-spaced gifts, and there are no tears. The anticipation is eased, the sheer overwhelming glut of gifts is tamed, and it’s nice to have little things that bring our family close. “Nice” can replace “thrilling,” “good” can replace “exciting,” and while it can be sad to think of muting even the good stuff, it is worth it.

Sending strength and courage to you all as you navigate onward –