SURPRISE!

 I'm not as pre-occupied with out new child's transitioning as might come across, but it's such a huge new thing for me it's in my mind all the time.

But everything else goes on in the fostering world in our house. Some of it like clockwork, most of it not.

If there's one thing that fostering brings to a household for which there's no getting round, it's that the normal rhythm of a house is all to pot.

Normally, one knows everyone in the house, and has done since birth. You know your partner, if you have one, and you have been alongside your own childrem, if you have any, since they popped out.

That's not to say there are no surprises, but the fact that something may come as a surprise is a surprise. But in fostering surprises come along all the time. It would be a surprise if there were no surprises.

I remember the first time a child ran away. He had only been with us two days and we took him into town on a Saturday morning as we were doing some mild shopping. 

On the way back to our car we had to cross a large patch of open green which belonged to the local college who'd layed it out for sport. It was a big bit of territory; three or four rugby pitches. We'd used the park and ride facility on arrival, but decided to walk back to the car as the queue for the bus was long.

We got to the field and started to walk across, but almost immediately the lad started to get fidgety.

He was aged eight and had been taken into care because his mum couldn't handle him, and a large part of his problem was that she didn't try. She simply locked him up. She'd bolted a hasp onto the outside of his bedroom door and padlocked him in.

Every evening she'd lock him up and go out hunting for men and fun and booze and whatever. And left him imprisoned.

So, we're not a few yards onto the open space when he ran for it.

Yep, he just raced away. 

What can you do? 

I'm no athlete, nor is my other half. I told him to stay with the other kids, I'd try to keep track of the boy. So, listen, I'm not legging it like Sebastian Coe here, I'm just trotting, trying to keep him in sight.

My mind is teeming with what to do. Do I use my phone to tell Blue Sky I've got a child on the run? Do I call the police? 

The best bit of advice I ever took about fostering came from an old hand at Blue Sky who said "Whatever, just use your common sense."

Obviously there are times when you have to do what the handbook says you have to do. But ninety-nine times out of a hundred it's not clear cut. That's when it's down to you to decide.

So, I figured, no-one was in any danger. He hadn't actually gone missing even though it felt like that was beginning to happen. What if he did disappear/ How long should I wait before I called for support?

By this time he's away across the field and gone in among seome outbuildings that turned out to be student accomodation units.

It took me four or five minutes to get there. When I did there was no sign of him, so I prowled around just in case he was lurking. 

In the end I gave up and started to walk back to the others. No sooner did I do that than he appeared.

He'd been shadowing me around the outbuildings. Enjoying his moment.

Of freedom.

I asked him about it and he threw back his head with a massive grin and gurgled "I just felt FREE!!!"

After that I often took him out into the countryside to let him enjoy space.

And freedom.

He brought several surprises, this lad.

For one, he brought on one of my earliest connections between the damage done to children and the outcomes in their behaviour.

For two he helped me position my fostering so that I worried the right amount. I began understanding that mostly things work out okay if you allow kids to explore as they feel impelled to, and discover things for themselves rather than be told.

For three I bumped into him a while back in the street, pushing a pushchair. 

He'd done alright.