DWIM

Being a Foster Carer keeps you up with the times.

You have to know your Brendan Urie from your Shawn Mendes, and your Game of Thrones from your Lucifer. In contrast you cannot let on that you like Love Island and have a good idea of who is doing what with whoever because that belongs to them and they don't want you in on that sort of private stuff.

Children have always had their own languages designed to exclude us adults.

Not long ago the kick was that something 'wicked' was the opposite of wicked. Prior to that the California kids came up with their own language; they would say something was "Grody to the max", meaning it was as disgusting as could be.

I've long noticed that children in care are more comforable having text-chats with me than actually talking, and while I persist with actual conversation it's good to get a meaningful dialogue any which way you can.

However. Yesterday I got a text message asking to be picked up from school as there was a problem with the bus. The problem probably had to do with an argument with some fellow pupils who used the same bus. These little conflicts run hot and cold but when they're hot they're hot so I was prepared to pick up. I suggested the foot of the footbridge outside the school, the reply was;

"YH"

I had a guess this meant "Yeah"

So I replied "Your reasonable. The argument will fix itself by Monday"

Reply:

"JK"

Now I'm in trouble. I feel a need to reply instantly, but to what? Aaaagh! I Google "JK". Get directed to a plethora of forums ridiculing me for not knowing what "JK" means. 

I reply: "Sorry, what?"

Reply:

"MK"

Turns out "MK" means "Hmmmm...okay". This time Google informed me it's a phrase derived from a character in South Park (TV cartoon) who underlines his indecision by saying in response to any suggestion by any other character "Mmmmmkay" (one word).

I SWEAR I found it easier to learn Darin (the Persian dialect spoken in Afghanistan). I've mentioned this before; what happened was we were asked to look after 3 young Afghan brothers who had smuggled themselves all the way to Dover. I said yes and had to track down a Halal butcher (20 miles away) and start learning their language because the boy's English was non-existent.

I get the kid's needs for their own language. They don't own very much, yet they're nearly adults - they need to own some things.

I have my own language, oh yeah.

A good example is a word I would spell like this:

"Eeeaavviah".

I don't say it with any emphasis, I kind of let it out the side of my mouth when  I'm on my way out of the room.

Try it. Say it out loud, see what it might mean.

It's my way of beginning to say to a foster child that they are loved. 

DWYM?

(Do you know what I mean?)