Last week: Ten-year-old Buzzy arrived about noon. He hasn’t met Chris, Dougie and Steve yet; they’re still at school. Meanwhile, we located some nice outgrown clothes to replace Buzzy’s decrepit wardrobe.
* * *
Marsha, Buzzy’s caseworker in the placement unit, dropped back by to see how things were going. She was enthusiastic about our makeover, and Buzzy beamed with pride. (And I glowed, because I was proud of what we’d done, too).
I needed to touch base with Marsha. I had a few questions and there were a couple more forms to complete, so I sent Buzzy to pick out some hardy play clothes to change into.
“Are you gonna talk about me?” he asked suspiciously.
“Buzzy, do you trust me?”
“Yeah, I guess. I pretty much have to.”
“Good, because one of the first things you’re going to learn is that I’ll never lie to you. So, yes. we’re going to talk about you and your happiness here. And then after Marsha leaves, I’ll tell you a little of what we said. After that you can go outside for a while.”
He was OK with that, and ran on down the hallway.
“You know,” Marsha said, “I’m willing to bet that by tonight, he will have asked you whether or not he can phone his mom. This will certainly not be possible this soon, so you’d better prepare him for that. There might be a meltdown, but we’ll get through this. He seems to like you, and this is really important, because he’s going to need you a lot. He’s looking at this as a temporary intervention in his life, and it’s going to dawn on him that he won’t be reunifying anytime soon. In the meantime, all the love and care he’s clearly going to get from you are going to be ameliorating factors in this situation.”
Suddenly I realized that bedtime tonight was going to be a difficult time. Well, I’ve done it before. This one might be a little harder than most. God, this is a needy kid! I hope I can pull this one off. “Marsha,” I said, “This one might be a keeper. I suspect this is going to be a good match. For whatever time he’s in the system, let’s work on having him stay here. I have a positive feeling about this one.”
Marsha smiled her big, broad smile. “You know what? I do, too. I’ll meet with Bob in the ongoing unit, and we’ll do whatever we can.”
Buzzy rode with me to pick up the other kids from school, and over the next couple of hours, everyone got acquainted quickly. As the dinner hour approached, Chris said to Buzzy, “When a new kid comes, we all get to go out for pizza.”
“Pizza?” Buzzy was excited. “Pizza is my favorite! But I’ve never gone out for it. My mom just brings it from the store. I’ve never eaten pizza at a pizza place before!”
This is a fun kid who hasn’t had much fun. And he just mentioned his mom without any tears. This is just too easy.
If Buzzy was excited before, he was ecstatic when we entered the pizzeria and he saw the arcade games.
“New one, huh?” observed Ben at the counter. He’d seen many of my pizza lovers come and go over the years.
“Yeah, this is Buzzy,” I said, and he dropped eight quarters into Buzzy’s hand.
“This is on me, Buzzy, and you’ll have to get the rest out of Dad.” I watched with interest as Buzzy strode proudly into the arcade, ready to part with his new-found wealth.
Under the foster system, I must give each child a prescribed allowance — in Buzzy’s case, $3 a week. But pizza trips are special and I always make extra quarters available for the games. I was sure Buzzy had never had an allowance before.
The other kids were playing other games. Because he seemed hesitant to play with his new housemates, he played alone. I wondered about his prior experience with peers. Has he ever gone to a friend’s house after school? Has he ever had a friend over for a sleepover? Has he ever had a friend?
He sat with me. The other three had gone a couple of tables away. They weren’t excluding him; they just wanted live it up a little, and Buzzy wanted to be with his new Dad.
“This is good pizza!” he declared. “This is the best! Oh, thank you so much for this!”
Is he on a trip to Disneyland? This kid thinks I hung the moon. Is this just a vacation that will soon be over? Is he living in the moment, or does he realize that this is the beginning of a new phase of his life? When will the other shoe drop? For him? For me?
(To be continued)
Robin C. Harris, an 18-year resident of Lake County, is the author of “Journeys out of Darkness, Adventures in Foster Care.” A retired educator, he is a substitute teacher for Lake County schools and has recently completed two works of fiction for children and teens. He is available for tutoring in first through eighth grades. Harris can be contacted at harris.tke@att.net.
