This post isn't so much about fostering as about parenting and the pitfalls.
All the hoo hah about Fifty Shades reminds me of a very funny moment in the playground about 2 years ago.
The school were having a Cowboy and Indians day, where pupils could come in dressed up.
I didn't bother with mine because the whole dressing up thing is fine for mums with time on their hands, and the staff love it, or seem to as they always dress up. But I mean, Cowboys and Indians? In this day and age? Guns in the playground?
Anyway, one mum I often chat to while waiting for the 8.50am whistle was there with her two boys aged about 8 and 10, running around in cowboy hats going "Bang!" at the Native Americans. Her eldest looked particuarly authentic, with knotted hanky round his neck (Health and Safety?) a tin star on his waitcoat and a pair of small plastic handcuffs hanging from his waist.
The mum is just divorced, a hairdresser recently moved here to be nearer her parents.
We were chatting. She said she'd bought a few cowboy knick-knacks from Poundland, her boys liked cowboys and indians. We were watching the play when she suddenly froze. "Julian!" she hissed towards eldest. "Come here!!!"
He walked over tail between his legs, one hand behind his back.
"Give me those!" she snapped.
"You know exactly what I mean, give them to me NOW!"
Julian's hand came round from behind his back. He was holding a pair of real solid steel hancuffs, glinting in the low morning sun. Mum whipped them off him and stuffed them into her bag.
Slightly befuddled she glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed.
"Bit embarrassing" she whispered. "Now I'm wondering what else he's seen in my bedside cabinet"
There was, as they say, no answer to that.
There is a moral in there somewhere for parents, and a chuckle.