Matthew came for tea.

It’s a delightful moment when my son Max, can be seen bursting with excitement. Yesterday made him particularly so. His friend Matthew came to Tea. At the age of sixteen, having friends over to play should be a regular occurrence. Charlie, Max’s fourteeen year old brother, is constantly plotting with his mates, to meet up and have fun. But for Max and Matthew, these delightful liaisons are rare. They have visited each other’s house, perhaps a handful of times in the time that they have been in the same class at their Special Needs School. That gives you an indication of how thrilled Max was about the visit and how potentially stressful it may be for me.

Just arriving home together on the same school bus was almost too much excitement for them both to bear. They gleefully scrambled off the bus, arm in arm, rather like two Labrador puppies. It’s a scene that made my heart leap – for both of them, and me. Matthew does not have DS; he faces the huge challenge of limited sight, as well as Learning Difficulties, not that you’d ever guess. As the two of them crashed into the house, Matthew promptly tripped over my ill-placed coffee table, but completely unperturbed, made a dash for the kitchen, as Max ran at full pelt into the conservatory, giggling and shouting. They managed to lose each other before they’d even begun and I gently guided Matthew to join Max, reuniting them in their playful delight.

Max had a detailed game-plan meticulously mapped out, which he had guided me through, in a very determined manner, earlier in the day.

“First Matthew and me are going upstairs to my bedroom to play SSX Tricky (snow boarding), Pro-evolution soccer and Smack Down VS Raw wrestling on the playstation, and then my friend Matthew and me, we’ll come downstairs for Tea and watch my new wrestling DVD.”

They both share a passion for this large underpants and high drama sport, but thankfully have never allowed it to spill over into real life.

All such plans appeared to momentarily evaporate as they chased one another around the house and I waited for the first crack of bone, or spillage of fraught tears. Gentle persuasion was required once again, as I reminded Max of his game plan.

Charlie is perceptive enough to realise when to stay in the shadows and leave things well alone, but he couldn’t resist trotting down the stairs to take a quick overview of proceedings. He rather likes Matthew who is an adorable boy and I think a small part of Charlie enjoyed watching his brother have fun with a good mate. After establishing that his presence really was not required, he soon slunk off back to his bedroom, with the knowledge that he would not be disturbed, his room being strictly out of bounds.

Max had previously enquired whether he and Matthew could borrow Charlie’s game control so that they might play a dual playstation game. Charlie thoroughly enjoyed the power and with a small show of hammed up magnanimous generosity agreed. Brownie points notched up for later.

It was a joy to watch them gallop up the stairs and I was then able to prepare Tea. Chocolate spread sandwiches for Matthew and mozzarella cheese and garlic sausage sandwiches for Max. I’d been given strict orders by Max on what should be served and I knew better than to deviate. You may baulk at the thought of such poor standards of nutrition, but let me introduce to you the world of Special Needs. Sometimes it is necessary for steadfast rules and comfortable parameters of acceptable behaviour to be flung out the window. At the age of fourteen, I can assure you that Matthew’s mum Monique has spent many sleepless nights, mulling over his diet. Matthew is the youngest of Monique’s four children, so she’s no novice to the game of nutrition. Like me, instead of festering over the inadequacies and the absent of anything green, Monique understands the merits of an eccentric, but acceptable diet, however limited.

The afternoon visit was not bereft of some anxiety, whilst both boys were eager to aspire to the interaction best mates enjoy, their ability to access this, is painfully limited. They need full-time supervision, tactfully handled. I had mixed feelings when a few hours later, Arthur, Matthew’s father, arrived to pick him up. Part of me was relived that the visit had gone smoothly and that we could all breathe a sigh of relief that the event had ended on a high, but part of me was heart broken to watch my son, as the front door slammed and he frowned with disappointment at the departure of a friend.