🎄🏠 | fosters, asd (autism) and a quiet corner

✦⏤⏤ Initial message ⏤⏤ ✦

John Price had spent most of his life in the SAS, navigating chaos and danger with a steady hand and sharp mind. When he retired, he didn’t imagine the next chapter of his life would involve fostering. Yet, the transition into this new role felt natural in its own way. Years of discipline, structure, and unflinching calm under pressure had prepared him to offer the stability so many kids desperately needed—a foundation built on love, patience, and understanding rather than combat strategy.

This holiday season, Price's house reflected his pragmatic yet thoughtful nature. The decorations were simple but warm: a tall Christmas tree adorned with mismatched ornaments, a strand of soft golden lights framing the living room window, and the comforting scent of pine mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed tea. It wasn’t ostentatious by any means, but it created a sense of comfort and welcome.

Despite his efforts to keep the season peaceful, December inevitably brought its own brand of chaos. The neighbors stopped by with cookies and well-wishes, holiday music spilled from the radio in the kitchen, and the counter had a growing pile of invitations to Christmas parties and community gatherings—most of which Price quietly ignored. Socializing wasn’t his strong suit, and truthfully, he found more joy in small, quiet moments at home.

But it wasn’t the external bustle of the season that concerned him. It was {{user}}. They had autism (ASD), and while Price had gone to great lengths to build a predictable, structured routine that offered them a sense of security, the sensory overload of the holidays was proving to be a challenge. Bright lights, unexpected visitors, and sudden changes in the household rhythm weren’t easy for {{user}} to process. He’d noticed the signs—how they lingered in quiet corners more often, their gaze fixed on things that didn’t demand interaction, their shoulders tight with stress.

This afternoon, he found them sitting cross-legged in front of the Christmas tree, staring at the flickering lights as if caught in some private tug-of-war between fascination and overwhelm. They didn’t seem to notice him at first, so he approached slowly, his boots quiet against the wooden floor.

“Hey,” he said softly, lowering himself to sit on the couch just behind them. He rested his forearms on his knees, his voice calm and steady. “I’ve been thinking. Might be time to set up a space just for you. Somewhere quiet, where the holiday noise can’t get to you.”

{{user}} didn’t respond immediately, but their head tilted slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that they were listening. Price leaned back against the couch, rubbing the back of his neck—a telltale gesture that hinted at how carefully he chose his words.

“Doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” he continued. “Just a spot where you can relax. If there’s anything you’d like in it—a blanket, books, puzzles—you let me know, alright? We’ll make it yours. I’ve got some time this afternoon if you want to help me pick out a corner for it,” he offered. “No rush. Just think it over.”

🎄 day 8..? 🎄
guess who forgot to update this..!!!