When the toilets are scarier than the rides

Snow falling in Paris ruined by auto-flush loos: An open letter to Disneyland Paris from a neurodivergent family

 

Dear Disneyland Paris,

We’ve just come back from a pre-Christmas getaway to the park with our two undiagnosed neurodivergent children. The sort of trip you imagine in your head – rosy cheeks, twinkly lights, and smiling faces. Even the weather delivered and we had two bouts of snow during our visit!

We honestly thought we’d prepped for everything- hats, gloves, scarf, handwarmers, fidget toys, ear defenders, the accessibility guide, the Blue Booklet for neurodivergent guests, a wagon with a canopy that doubled as a sensory break pod that my daughter could hide in – we had the lot. Turns out we hadn’t.

I knew it would be challenging, but I didn’t expect the thing that would completely derail the holiday to be the toilets.

Most of the loos in the park are auto-flush. I know lots of places have them , but to a sensory-sensitive six-year-old who’s terrified of noise and surprises and has never encountered one before, that sudden WHOOSH might as well have been Tower of Terror dropping her 13 floors without warning.

I read the ASD guide before we travelled. I’d mapped out which rides were too loud, which restaurants were too smelly, which sections of the park she might find too overwhelming, and quieter rest spots if it all got too much. The guides and maps were brilliant for that, but there was nothing about what the toilets were like, other than accessible toilets for physical disabilities.

We weren’t staying in a Disney hotel (where some loos have manual flushes as we discovered during restaurant reservations twice during our stay), so we used the park ones. All of which were auto-flush, all with loud hand dryers (from what I could work out).

For most families, this wouldn’t even register, but for a lot of neurodivergent children and adults who struggle with noise, unpredictability and loss of control, it’s a huge deal. My daughter was terrified of the sudden flush, the noise, the fear of being splashed and the lack of control over the whole thing.

For four days she refused to go. Four days of crying, shaking, pleading not to go near the toilets, being desperately uncomfortable, ruminating about the toilets constantly and a distressed older brother who worries when others are upset. So now we had two overwhelmed children and two parents slowly losing the will to live inside Fantasyland. Not quite the Pinterest board of dreams. We tried every strategy we knew, but nothing helped because the fear was real.

People stared and probably thought we were being ridiculous or that she was being “naughty” or stubborn. But the thing is, this was panic, sensory overwhelm and anxiety. It wasn’t a matter of will, but instead survival as she felt unsafe. And as a parent standing there helpless while your child is at that level of distress…well I cried too. Not because the holiday wasn’t perfect – I wasn’t expecting that, but because I hadn’t realised how hard this one thing would be for her, or all of us, and I couldn’t take away her fear. It was the only thing we hadn’t planned for and the one thing she couldn’t avoid.

For many neurodivergent children, toilets aren’t just a necessity, they’re a full-on sensory battle, and that is why I’m writing this, because other families will face exactly the same thing.

Disney, you already do so much right with accessibility, but I have one suggestion that could make a huge difference for families like ours:

Please include toilets in your sensory and accessibility guides. Tell us which ones are auto-flush, where the loud hand dryers are, which ones are quieter. And if there are any manual-flush options in hotels, please consider letting Priority Pass families use them. It would honestly change everything for some children.

To other parents, if you’ve ever watched your child crumble because of a small change or sensory trigger, if toilets are a nightmare, if you’ve ever felt helpless in a public place, if holidays turn into complicated missions, if you’ve ever tried everything you could think of and still ended up in tears…you are not alone.

You’re doing the best you can, and so are they.

When we got home and asked our daughter what her favourite thing about the trip was, she said:

“The toilets in the hotel restaurant, and going home so I could use our toilet.”

Honestly? Same, darling. Same.

From one exhausted, mildly traumatised parent,

Laura
Volunteer at BrightPaths and proud mum of two brilliant neurodivergent children.