FINDING THE MOMENT TO TALK

 Our latest foster arrival, Alicia has been with us about three weeks.

She's a charming teen, if a bit disorganised. Understandably so, what with the chaos going on in her life.

I woke up at just after 3.15am and didn't know why. I lay there for a bit before hearing the faintest of voices from downstairs.

I slid out of bed, wrapped myself in my DG and crept down.

Alicia was watching Netflix.

In my book, what you DON'T do is get heavy. You need to check out what's going on before judgement.

She was in the back room, which is off our kitchen, it's kind of a kids area, as in all crisp wrappers and biscuit crumbs. Dog was at her feet, dog loves it when people stay up late. 

Or was she up early? I wanted to find out gently.

Me, turning on the kettle;

"Morning, y'alright?"

Alicia; "Yeah. Couldn't sleep. I haven't woke you up have I?"

Me; "Nah. Some car went past at a hundred, so I thought I'd have a cuppa tea then try for another couple of hours."

Alicia; "Yeah, me too. What day is it again?"

Me: "Saturday. You can sleep in if you want."

Silence. I took my mug of Yorkshire across and perched on the arm of the sofa. And pretended to be fascinated by the movie; a bunch of super heroes battling bad guys.

I find in fostering that you have to be alert to moments when the child wants to talk. I know of carers who sit their child down every afternoon after school for a 5 minute chat about their day. For me that's too formal, like an office thing. I prefer opportunism. Especially when it's the child that wants to talk.

Alicia sighed, pointed the remote at the TV and muttered;

"C**p."

Me: "They're all a bit same, these superheroes things."

Alicia; " Yeah, but Black Lightning is the first black superhero who's, like, the star of the thing."

Me: "Aaah. That's good."

Now I'm getting in with Alicia. She wants to talk about minorities, the oppressed, and change.

Long story short; Alicia and I nattered for nearly half an hour. Then she began to get uncomfortable talking about private thoughts and beliefs with a middle-aged woman she'd only met a few weeks before. Suddenly she got up and took herself to bed.

We didn't talk about her transitioning from male to female at all. Obviously it's high in my mind, even higher in hers, but I'm mad keen not to make it her defining feature - if you know what I mean. 

She's got plenty on her plate.

Me too: on my "To Do" list; talk to the school about toileting for gender neutral pupils such as my Alicia.

Yep, she's "my" Alicia now, unless and whenever her somewhat disturbed mother collects herself, and no-one's holding their breathe.