A mainstream school put their autistic son in a converted staff room and left him there for two years. They called it support.

Alan and his wife Alex fought for a specialist placement. Now Magnus is in a school with just 15 children total - five per key stage, one SEN teacher, and four teaching assistants. The transformation has been staggering. He's reading full books out loud for the first time in two years. He's responding to "now and next" language. He understands cause and effect in ways he never did before.

But getting here meant watching their son be warehoused in a room where nobody knew how to teach him. The staff were kind. The setting was wrong. And for two years, Magnus was left to his own devices while the system insisted this counted as provision.

This conversation captures what "night and day" actually looks like when an autistic child finally lands in the right environment - and the quiet fury of knowing it should never have taken this long.Alan also talks about the hidden logistics of raising Magnus alongside his neurotypical twin sister Freya. The two of them have vastly different needs, and balancing those needs means separate days out, careful attention management, and accepting that equal doesn't always mean identical.

Christmas in their household requires military-level planning. Presents hidden in locked cupboards and the boot of the car. Paper wrapped around the top of the stairs to buy an extra hour before the kids come down. Freya tears through her gifts in minutes while Magnus opens one, walks into the kitchen, and doesn't return to the rest for hours. They've learned to let him set the pace.

There's also the sibling dynamic that nobody prepares you for. Freya understands Magnus is different. She's fiercely protective of him. When a boy at soft play grabbed Magnus, seven-year-old Freya - who does MMA - Sparta kicked him down the slide. Alan was proud. The other kid was crying. No apologies were offered.

And then there's Anne, the next-door neighbour who deserves a shoutout. Magnus has a habit of bouncing on the trampoline and launching everything he owns over the fence. Once a week, Anne returns a carrier bag full of dinosaurs, Teletubbies, and number blocks. Her greenhouse is still standing. Somehow.

This episode is honest, funny, and full of the details that only parents living this life would recognise. It's a conversation about what support should look like, what it often doesn't, and the small victories that make the hard days worth it.