For most parents, “special days” at school are harmless fun.

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For some of us, they’re emotional landmines.

World Book Day, Christmas Disco day, the nativity, a trip out, a themed assembly or (my least favourite), the dreaded Easter bonnet parade. Schools understandably love their themed days. They create excitement, break up the term, and give lots of children something to look forward to.

But for many parents of children with special educational needs, those emails announcing a special day land very differently.

Not just the normal ‘urgh’ most parents feel when they receive yet another email instruction on the app. A lingering anxiety as you count down the days, wondering how and when to tell your child a “fun” day is coming.

Routine matters to SEN children in a die-hard way that is tricky to explain if you haven’t lived it. Knowing what the day will look like, what they will wear, what they will bring, what will happen next. Predictability is what makes their world feel manageable.

Change that routine, even slightly, and the anxiety begins.

It starts with questions. From ‘how do I decide what to wear or what to be’, to ‘why today’, ‘are you sure it’s the right day’ and ‘is everybody definitely doing it?’.

Then there’s the logistics – ‘where do I put the extra hat, bag or wellies’, or ‘do I go somewhere different?’ and the biggie – ‘how will I know?’.

My child worries about things other children barely notice. Even bringing a bag into school can cause stress because it isn’t what “usually” happens. Wearing green, gold or white socks for St Patrick’s Day upended his morning. He blamed me for the unnecessary stress I brought to his already overwhelming day.

And the anxiety rarely begins on the day itself. The same questions repeated again and again, weeks before the event. We try to rehearse the change in advance so it does not feel so unknown when it arrives, but these sweet school traditions still cause enormous meltdowns in our house. A vision of joyously marching around the playground, not feeling his version of normal, while being watched by other classes and parents, is the stuff of nightmares.

Even the autonomy of being asked to decide on a costume, an item of clothing, a ‘theme’ for a bonnet, can be too much. My son aggressively resists decisions made for him, yet finds any kind of choice completely overwhelming. Knowing there is a strict deadline for the decision, let alone for the bonnet to be made, leads to fear, overwhelm, and deep, deep feelings of anger.

A year ago, our school did something that genuinely helped. For World Book Day they asked everyone to wear pyjamas. The idea was to reduce the stress and cost of costumes and make it simple for everyone. I watched an interview on TV with the National Literacy Trust, which did a fantastic job of explaining why there was a sudden pivot from Harry Potter and Where’s Wally.

It worked. No frantic searching for characters. No pressure to get it right. No child feeling different because their costume was not as elaborate as someone else’s.

But this year the costumes were back.

For many children, that is part of the fun. I know that. Schools are trying to create joy. But joy looks different for every child.

For some children, the best day is not the loudest or the most colourful one. It is the one that looks exactly like yesterday. The same routine and expectations.

Schools talk a lot about inclusion now, which is a good thing. But inclusion is not only about policies or support plans. It is also about understanding how everyday school culture affects children who experience the world differently.

Because for some families, the most difficult part of the school year is not exams or homework. For some children, the “fun” days are the hardest.

Oonagh Barrington is the MD of Transatlantic PR. She is also a mother of two young children, one of which has autism and ADHD.

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