When I was a child I had a problem with my speech. I could understand what everyone said to me, but since they couldn’t understand what I said, I was called ‘the disabled child’ or ‘the stupid child’. The R.D.A. either didn’t exist back then or no one knew about it, so it wasn’t there for me and I grew up with two certainties: that I had to count on myself and that I was stupid.

Years later, when I found and fell in love with the person who was going to be my wife, I finally began to think better of myself: after all if someone else loves you, there must be something about you to love.

When you are called stupid (and worse) for so long, you end up believing it. That label never left me, even though my life was then ‘on the up’. Our first child was perfect, and still is (don’t let her read this or she will ask for more pocket money). Not long afterwards our second came along, and life couldn’t get better.

Then after a few months it started. We had noticed that something wasn’t right with our son and when we got the doctors and other professionals involved, all we heard was “He can’t do this” and “He will not do that”.

History was repeating itself and I decided there and then that my son would not grow up as I did. We spent the next few years going to meetings to hear the same thing again and again: “Cannot do this; will not be able to do that.”

Then the R.D.A came into our lives. All of a sudden we were being told, “Your son can do this; he can do that.” His behaviour improved (would you behave if you were told “you can’t” all the time?) and he became proud of what he could do instead of feeling stupid about what he couldn’t.

Over the short period of time he has been at the stables, his confidence both at the stables and elsewhere in his life has increased. I used to say I could ride, but after seeing my son in the saddle I now know I sit on horses, my son rides them.

Now when we go to meetings with the professionals, we tell them “Our son can do this,” and “Maybe he will do that.”

The RDA, or more importantly, the RDA helpers have given my son the support he needed to become the person he is growing up to be, and thankfully nothing like me.

I cannot say what the R.D.A means to me, the words don’t exist, but thankfully it is there for the families who need it.

Shortly after proud dad, John, wrote this article, his son competed in Dressage at the Greater Manchester Horse Show. Robert rode without any help, and the family were overjoyed when he won the class.

But their joy was even greater when they read the summary at the bottom of the dressage sheet:

To parents who never dreamed their son would have any kind of future, let alone a ‘promising’ one, this simple but profound comment is one they will always treasure.