help me – what do you think you could do?’
He was still looking at me with that odd, anxious expression, and I feared that the whole process might be derailed any moment – that he’d lose his rag, declare things ‘rubbish’ and generally kick off.
But he didn’t do anything. He just sat there looking sad. ‘I don’t think I want to do anything,’ he said eventually. Then he thought for a moment. ‘Or, maybe, I could run to the shops for you?’
It had come out of leftfield, creating a vivid image. Of little Sam hurrying down the street carrying a list and a Tesco bag for life. Such a simple thing to do, in a happy, secure childhood. And it touched me. Made me feel sad too.
It was also a discussion for another day – one down the line a bit. He was nine and an unknown quantity, so it was also a safeguarding issue. ‘No, nothing like that,’ I said, ‘though it’s a lovely idea, Sam. No, let me think. I was thinking more of things round the house. Like, how about, I know … making your bed every morning?’
He nodded. ‘Then maybe being quiet in your room until you hear an adult get up, perhaps? Brushing your teeth twice a day? Taking out the rubbish bags to the bins?’
I was writing as I spoke and I could see Sam eyeing the list, and I could tell by his expression – which was approaching incredulous – that he thought this was far too easy a trade.
It also seemed to cheer him up from whatever had upset him. ‘I could do all of that,’ he said. ‘Easy. And I could wash up, and dry up, and help put the pots away,’ – now we’re rolling, I thought – ‘and I’m good at digging. I can dig the garden up for you if you like.’
I had another vision – of my flower beds, and how well they might fare under his enthusiastic ministrations. ‘Well, I think we’ll leave the garden till it’s properly springtime,’ I told him. ‘But if you’re happy with all the others, I think that would be brilliant. So,’ I said, sitting back a little, ‘now we have what we need to play the game. The list of things you’d like, and the list of things you can do to help you get them. So now we come to this chart –’ Like a Blue Peter presenter, I reached for the one I’d prepared earlier.
‘What’s that?’ he said, his interest piqued. ‘What’s the lines for?’
‘These are rows and columns,’ I explained as we pored over it together. ‘We put the tasks down on this side, and the days of the week up here, and every time you complete one, we mark it with a tick. Well, not a tick, but a star’ – I reached for them – ‘like this. Then we count up all the stars and check the list of treats, and you can chose those you’ve earned enough stars for. Then we do exactly the same the next week, and the next week, and the next week. Maybe change the treats, if you decide there are other things you’d like to earn. But that’s pretty much how it works. Does that make sense?’
‘I’m not sure. I think so.’
‘Don’t worry. It will make more sense when we’ve filled in all the boxes. Shall we do that now?’
‘Yes, yes,’ he enthused, ‘so I can start straight away. Easy peasy!’
It wasn’t quite as simple as that, obviously, because nothing worthwhile ever is. And, down the line – well, assuming all went roughly to plan – it would, of necessity, become more complicated. He could only ‘earn’ the TV and Xbox once, obviously, so at some point he’d have to understand that, in order just to keep them, certain tasks would need completing regularly. Which could create another crisis (it had done so with Justin) and that would need to be managed too, when it came to it – but it was important that we did, because it was another important step on the road to a child taking ownership of their own behaviour.
But that was for later. For the moment it was sufficient that we were sitting companionably at the table, and that Sam was embarking, willingly, on the all-important first step – engaging with a process that could reap huge rewards for him, and which would occupying him productively and, hopefully, as a by-product, help his more negative behaviours to melt away a bit.
At least, that was the theory …
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