FOSTERING WORKS

 In fostering you get little moments that are a bit special. Sometimes they're straightforward parenting moments, other times they throw fostering into special relief.

If we keep our wits about us there are endless clues that fostering works.

So, what happened last Saturday morning was this.

I came downstairs, let the dog out for a pee and fired up the kettle. Whenever I let the dog out I leave the back door open (weather permitting) for her to pad back in when she's done and I make her a pre-breakfast snack; a little ridged ball smeared with peanut butter. She's at it for twenty minutes while I sup my first cup of tea.

Then she gets her breakfast of a proper bowl of food and I make my second cuppa and the family starts appearing.

I'd made the kids a bunch of toast and a couple of bowls of Weetabix and we all sat in the front room watching cartoons, then I went back into the kitchen because after my first two cups of tea I move onto coffee. That's when I was suddenly aware of a kerfuffle on the inside of the kitchen window. At first I thought it was a massive moth going bananas like they do. But no.

It was a bird!

A tiny thing, flapping away like mad, trying to get out into the outdoors but the glass was obviously too strong.

For some reason the first thing I did was softly call out to the rest of the house;

"There's a bird in the kitchen!"

One and all they came running in; after all, this was SOMETHING.

And it turned out to be a beautiful something.

The foster kids took the lead. Drama was something they knew all about. 

The bird had been banging itself against the window pane so feverishly she clearly had at best a headache, so she fell onto the lino and lay still. 

Eldest child stepped forward as gently as possible and curled a tender hand around her. Then picked her up and whispered;

"It's alright. Everything's going to be alright. We'll look after you."

They fetched an empty cardboard box (of which we now have plenty; thank you Amazon) and rumpled up some soft toilet tissue to form a makeshift nest. The bird squatted there motionless, but open eyed.

The children formed a rescue committee; one went off to the garden to find a worm, another closed all the curtains so that if she flew again she couldn't hit glass.

They opened the kitchen door and the front door so that there was a through breeze that the bird might get a piggy-back ride to freedom.

Then they decided it would be best to leave her to recover in peace.

They said that their presence, loving though they were, might be daunting for her.

They placed her 'nest' on the kitchen draining board next to the open door having observed that in the end it turned out that it was just as well that next door's cat had needed to be put down a few weeks ago.

We all made our way silently and slowly out of the kitchen and into the front room.

Eldest pointed out that he'd never before heard the birds singing in our garden so loudly. They wondered if they were calling her home.

Eldest gave the little visitor 5 minutes then crept into the kitchen to check on her. A triumphant voice called out;

"She's gone!"

And so she had; flown back to her own.

You don't need me to unpack all the parallels here between them and the little bird.

It was a brilliant episode, can't wait to share it in my next Blue Sky report.

Fostering works alright.