A MESS IN THE LIVING ROOM

 It's never any fun coming down ion the morning to a mess.

But once you have a foster child who's old enough to stay up watching TV after you've taken yourself to bed it's inevitable.

Eldest is now old enough and responsible enough. The TV has all the parental controls but there are channels that know who wants to watch what and how to programme films and shows that are groovy but safe.

Nevertheless you can't over-scrutinise their viewing. 

I had a teenager stay who loved a now-defunct daytime TV programme presented by Jeremy Kyle. You remember it? She loved it. I shared her devotion to the Kyle show at a Blue Sky support meeting and loads of other foster parents agreed; it was wildly popular with many kids in care. Why? We decided that they identified with the chaotic families on it'.  The kids had expertise in the type of disputes that were staged.

The child in question struggled to go to school. She claimed she was bullied, the school said she did her share of bullying, I suspected there was some truth in both assertions.

However, if she 'pulled a sickie', I ruled "No TV and no phone." 

She wasn't deterred. You have to admire pluck and guile sometimes, even if it adds to your workload.

She started going downstairs at night when she thought everyone else was asleep and turning the telly on with the sound very low.  Then tip-toe back upstairs later with no-one the wiser. She would have got away with it but for the tell-tale signs; an empty crisp packet here and there, one less carton of juice in the fridge. 

She was a hefty young person and she left an indent in the sofa cushions which I always plumped up before bedtime so that the place was nice to come down to.

I suspected she was maybe watching re-runs of the Kyle show which I believe one can do if you know how.

It was 'game on', as they say.

I won. Here's how.

Late one evening just before bed I went to the fuse box and closed down the mains power in the ring that served the room with the TV.

I did it for a handful of nights and she gave up.

She was a lovely girl to tell the truth. She'd had some right rotten times in her childhood for sure, but deep down was kind, caring, funny and clever. She hoped to work with animals and I helped her get information about work opportunities at dog kennels, petting zoos and local stables.

Y'know, maybe watching Jeremy Kyle made her homesick, because she badgered endlessly to go home. Her mantra, I'll never forget, was "How come I'm in care while the rest of them are at home playing happy families?"

…"happy families"…

I hope she's OK, she got home in the end, and her trail has gone cold.

Back to the current mess-maker; different ball game. He's entitled to be downstairs for a while, and is a great kid. The debris when I come down is legitimate but still a pain;

Trainers discarded, one on the coffee table, the other underneath it. Two socks left lying around, one on the sofa, one over by the TV. A hoodie down the back of the sofa.A soft blanket we drape on the sofa (for anyomne who wants a snuggle) left in a heap. An apple core, two crisp packets an empty juice bottle.

And…the remote nowhere to be seen.

Didn't take long to tidy, got it done before the kettle boiled. 

The remote was easy; down between the sofe cushions.

I didn't get bolshie about it. The youngster is coming along nicely and in fostering you have to remember the big picture.

Life has messed them around; they're entitled to make a wee mess themselves (...sometimes).