Parent Blog
The tooth fairy came, and Annabel declared she needed saving
Phoebe lost her first tooth. Annabel said she needed saving. A morning about milestones, meltdowns, and the aftermath that's harder to watch than the moment itself.
About the author
Esther
Founder & Editor
Nearly 20 years in corporate change management taught me how to take complex problems and make them manageable. Then my daughter’s autism diagnosis gave me a complex problem no corporate framework could touch. I went down research rabbit holes out of necessity, learned to navigate the SEND system through trial and a lot of error, and started writing it all down because other parents needed it too. Neuroequipped was born out of wanting to help others.
Phoebe had a wobbly tooth. It was pretty much hanging by a thread the final two days and when it finally came out she was absolutely thrilled. Annabel struggled when it happened and said she won't survive it, asking me for help. She struggled at bedtime. But it was the morning that undid her; when Phoebe woke up and found a pound under her pillow, Annabel started screaming. She ran to her room, slammed the door and screamed.
The thing about these moments is that you want to celebrate them. You don't want to manage a meltdown and a milestone at the same time, but that's the reality of our mornings sometimes. So Mark took Annabel, I took Phoebe downstairs to be excited about her pound, and we closed the door between them. When I went back up to Annabel, I sat with her and said: it's okay to have big feelings. It's not okay to spoil Phoebe's moment. You're going to stay here until you feel calmer, and then we can do some reading with Daddy. She chose the reading. She calmed down. We got through it.
This is a pattern I've learned to recognise over the past couple of years. It's not just the tooth fairy; it's when Phoebe gets invited to a party Annabel isn't at. When it's someone else's birthday. When the attention lands somewhere other than on her. Something ordinary and unremarkable tips Annabel into a flood she can't get out of on her own, and she's shouting that she needs saving, and she means it completely. It's another reason we can't do board games in our house, with the exception of the fantastic co-operative games which I've included a link to in the resources section.
What I've come to understand is that it's the feeling itself she's scared of. When she's in the middle of something that big, she can't reach the knowledge that it will pass, that it won't harm her, that she can be held through it. It just arrives and takes her over and she gets really overwhelmed by it.
And then there's the aftermath, which I find almost harder to watch than the moment itself. She always feels such shame. You can see it on her face. Shame is really an enemy of our children's confidence, and it doesn't help them regulate better next time; it just adds more weight to an already overloaded system. So the thing I keep coming back to, every time, is making sure she hears it clearly: the feeling was okay. You're a good kid having a hard time. We know you didn't mean to say those things, that was jealousy talking, or anger talking. We're going to help you learn to make them smaller and you bigger. It's okay. You're okay.
I have to keep saying it until it sticks, and I have to always show her I'm bigger than her big feelings and I can hold them, she's safe, and we will get through it. Although I'm hoping we're done with wobbly teeth for a few months now.
If your child experiences emotional flooding, the Neuroequipped guide to why autistic children experience anxiety differently covers what's actually happening during these moments and what the research says helps.