A muppet with a puppet.

Bonzo has spoken.

Emotionally that is, Bonzo always speaks.

Last night we had a minor breakthrough, this morning slightly more major.

Last night we had come home from a nice night away with old friends (my friend is old, his is obviously young), and all day he had been making this awful (sorry, but it is, awful) throat noise. First intermittently but by lunch time almost continuously. I timed our drive home so he would sleep – in the car it would have been too distracting. I had tried asking if he had a sore throat (his tonsils are always huge, and often infected), I tried giving him drinks, but no – nothing stopped the noise. His friends were noticing, my friends were noticing, and truth be known probably a bit embarrassed for me.

I however, am beyond embarrassment.

So, dinner is being eaten, when out of the blue, following no conversation other than normal ramblings Bonzo says,

‘I lived with someone else when I was little didn’t I?’. Well, good job those chair legs were secure as I nearly fell off. ‘Yes’, I answered calmly. I told him their names and promised I’d find a photo. ‘Can you find a photo of them with me please?’ (er no, haven’t got one), ‘yes, I’ll see what I can find’

We talked a bit more about them and then back to normal ramblings he went.

Off to bed, not too calmly, but not too bad either. Stories as normal and no more was said.

This morning, Bonzo in a spritely mood, I decide to get the puppets out and talk about foster care again.

So, I am sitting in bed, drinking tea (priorities) with my hand up a lion’s backside, and Bonzo is next to me with his hand round a giraffe’s neck……..

I am not going to repeat the conversation A – most of it I can’t remember, B – it would bore you.

After a few minutes of a silent giraffe and a very chatty lion, the lion (aka me) hit the nail on the head.

‘Do you remember going anywhere with Foster Family’

‘Sort of’

‘Where did you go’

‘I don’t know, it was somewhere I don’t know’

And this is when, for me, the penny dropped……

Was it somewhere like the room that we saw Mrs Therapist in?

Yes Mummy, just like that room, but with  a different lady with another lady and lots of toys and stuff.

So, about 5 weeks after the downward spiral that seeing Mrs Therapist appeared to have triggered, all is revealed. That hour, spent with Mrs Therapist (and me), in a room full of cheery toys, puzzles, drawing stuff, triggered a memory from life more than 3 years ago, when Bonzo was still pre-verbal, of visiting his birth mother – presumably in a Social Services room somewhere. And that memory, presumably (I’m no therapist, I’m guessing) has led him to memories of moving from pillar to post, and of course put in him the fear of moving on. Last time he went to a room like that it was only weeks before a complete stranger (me), visited him and then took him from what he thought was his home. No wonder every time someone new comes to the house he is in my face, not letting them talk, no wonder his behaviour has gone downhill faster than the Big Dipper, and no wonder school is filling him with dread. More new people, more new rooms full of toys, more ‘ladies’ we visited.

And we think we have worries………

The eye rolling has worsened and we have appointments coming up to eliminate/diagnose mild epilepsy. The throat noise is new and continuing.

But, I think we have reached a milestone.

For the first time in nearly 3 years, Bonzo has voiced a memory, a concern, more importantly, he has trusted me.

It looks like I will have to be a muppet with a puppet again – it seems to be working.

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