I feel like a failure of a fun loving person. I did absolutely nothing for April Fools day- except for voting for a tumblr Lizard (and what was that anyway?!)
At least the weather was nice. I got to go see lots of bouncy lambs and a demonic goat at the local reserve for "wild-life" (aka: a small tree filled park of farm yard animals and the occasional 'wild' duck.) Hope you guys had a more productive pranking day than me.


It takes just over a week to sort everything out. Fran somehow manages to become your social worker and, while you had an inkling at your first meeting, you now know, with a stone clad certainty, that she is both hilarious and kind. She helps you with everything. She even comes around and helps you set up Patero's bedroom. Fran's surprisingly brilliant with IKEA instructions and a paint brush.

Once the flat is cleared as a non-hazard zone, she lets you know you'll have Patero with you this Friday.

You are strangely excited as she smilingly tells you this. You have to keep reminding yourself that Patero will not be feeling the same way. He hasjust lost his father and he's going to need help with that and to talk about it and- and- and doesn't that just scare you half to death.

The reality that the funny guy with a short frizzy beard and those huge floppy brown ears that always covered his eyes- the friendly monster who you would see giving Patero piggyback rides home each day- is gone... Well... It hasn't sunk in properly yet. You can't imagine how Patero is feeling, but you try anyway as you attempt to wrap your mind around this concept.


Patero arrives at 4.30pm with a slightly exhausted looking Fran and a battered half-empty rucksack.

When you see him standing in your doorway, he acts both as you expected and as you didn't. At first he looks apprehensive, blinking around himself as he clutches his small bag tightly to his chest.

Then he meets your gaze and his face lights up. He calls your name and bounds over to you, just stopping short of hugging you.

"Hey Patero, long time no see!" You grin happily, pleasantly surprised by his enthusiastic greeting.

The kid's smile kind of freezes at that as he stares at you for a drawn out moment. Then the floor seems to draw his attention like a magnet, his body tense and still.

...Did you do something wrong? You want him to stop looking like that.

You look over to Fran and she winks at you, putting you at ease... slightly.

It's to be expected, you tell yourself, taking a deep breath.

"Come on, I'll give you the grand tour," you tell him, offering your hand to him.

He doesn't take it but he nods with a small, forced twitch of the mouth.

Bizarrely, he seems to like the kitchen-slash-living room and the 'cosy' (dinky) bathroom if his expression is anything to go by. From wide eyes to satisfied nods, you rediscover how expressive and mobile his face can be as you show him around your home.

"-And this is your room," you tell him, taking him into what once was your 'office' (*coughcomputergamesroomcough*)

Out of all the rooms, this one had been the most difficult to prepare. To decorate or not to decorate? That had been the question. In the end Fran took the decision out of your hands by gently reminding you that this is a temporary fostering so you shouldn't do anything too permanent.

As you look at Patero's expression now though, you know you've made the wrong choice.

The room is bare and beige. There is a simple single bed framed by a small window and bland curtains that came with the flat. It looks like a place to sleep; it doesn't feel like a room to live in. Patero can see that; he's a smart boy.

"...Think of it as a page of white paper," you whisper to him in a conspiratorial tone. "Wanna crack out the crayons?"

His frozen forced smile dissolves into an incredulous look of surprise as you wink at him. He turns Fran who's face holds an expression somehowtorn between mild worry and side splitting amusement.

"I call dibs on pink crayon," she informs him.

As you all get to work using the crayons (which took a ridiculously long time to locate in your now neat flat) Fran sidles up to you with an odd expression on her squashed face.

"Not that I don't think this is a lovely way to great your foster son or anything, especially after what happened this morn- well with everything that's happened... but aren't you worried about your deposit?" She whispers to you.

Your hand pauses in your drawing as you make a mental note to ask more about the fosterers Patero was staying with before when he's not in the same room.

"Oh don't worry about that. I lost it ages ago," you softly explain.

"Ooh? Do tell,"

You chuckle for real this time and shake your head. It's probably not a good idea to tell a social worker (even one as cool as Fran) about your drunken exploits with an iron and that bloody pin cushion.

Drunken ironing, who'd have thought it wasn't a good idea?

The chuckles fade away as you finish drawing out a window frame and start to fill it in with blue.

"...I'm a little bit worried though," Fran murmured after a brief silence. "Remember this isn't permanent. He won't be staying here forever, unless..."

You look at her and she's staring at you oddly, in that way that makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"Well- just make sure you don't get too attached, either of you, if this is going to be temporary,"

You frown and make to ask what exactly she means by that but she is already turning away and complementing Patero's drawing of an airplane.

You slowly turn back to stare at the fake window in front of you... You continue to draw.


It's fun. That first afternoon you don't know if you've ever laughed so hard in your life as you watch Patero enact the superhero you draw together, or if you have ever smiled so much as he falls back on the sofa to regale you with his knock knock jokes, which he seems to have learned hundreds of off by heart.

It's only when Fran finally leaves that evening, giving Patero a soft noogie, that the feeling of fun starts to fade and a thought occurs to you:

Now what?

You look to Patero and find that same thought nervously reflected on his face, making you smile again.

"C'mon, I'm getting hungry. Let's have a scout around the kitchen,"

You are not prepared for the impact those words seem to have on him. For a moment he is frozen in place. Then the small shy smile drains off his face as it scrunches in on itself.

"M' not hungry,"

Uhhh...he's got to eat though. Basic rule of fostering, actually it's so obvious it's not even a rule: FEED YOUR CHILDREN!

You flounder for a second as you try to think of a response to this. Then, with a deep breath, you rein in your panic.

"Okay, but as I said: I am. Can you help me choose something good? I have no idea what I want,"

Nailed it, you think as you see Patero suspiciously nod.

When going through the fridge his eye's quickly light up as he sees the pack of fresh tuna Fran made you buy.

"How about this? I think you'll like fish,"

You actually hate fish but you nod anyway and ask him how he recommends you do it as you've never cooked it before.

He seems rather shocked at that.

"You don' know how to cook fish?" He asks incredulously, before shrinking into himself as he recognises how that tone came of as.

"Why don't you teach me?" you ask in all seriousness.

There is a beat of surprised silence then Patero fights back a small smirk and tells you to get out some onions.

To be honest, you're not a great cook. If you have the instructions in front of you, fine, yeah, you can make something simple like a stir fry. But making something off the top of your head- well- that would be on par with the drunken iron incident.

You urgently hope Patero has more sense than you as he mentally recalls the ingredients.

He seems to though as he has you cutting up all sorts of things to make a 'base' of some sort.

"What are we making again?" you ask.

He just smirks again, lazily weaving his paw through the rising, swirling steam, and repeats that you'll find out soon enough. Sigh.

In the end it turns out to be a odd sort of tuna soup thing and surprisingly (seeing that it's fish and you helped cook it) it turns out to be delicious.

You sit down with a bowl in front of you and two spoons ("oops picked this up instead of a fork, wanna help me not waste a clean spoon?") and eat it together.

"This is so good! How are you such a good cook at such a young age?" You ask after swallowing down a huge mouthful. You didn't know fish could taste like this. It feels so light in your mouth, as if it's dissolving on your tongue like candyfloss.

There is a smile on Patero's face as you speak but it quickly fades away to be replaced by a pinched, contemplative expression.

"My Mahd taugh' me," he tells you.

"…Mahd?"

He blinks twice and refocuses on you.

"Oh yeah, well it's a made up word me and my 'dad' came up with, coz I don' have a mum anymore, so he says he'll be both… he said he'd…"

He falls quiet. The new fridge hums and a drop of water plonks loudly into the sink. You desperately scramble for things to fill the sudden void of silence opening up between you.

"I like that name," you finally tell him, taking another mouthful of the soup. "Your Mahd had mad cooking skills,"

There is a split second where Patero looks torn between sadness, anger and amusement. Luckily you gamble pays off and he chuckles weakly.

After tidying up from dinner (you are determined not to let this place become a pigsty again, not while Petaro is around) you tell Patero to get ready for bed and then watch some telly on the couch; both quietly chatting about how ludicrous the film you found is.

(Oh that's cool. Wait... what? What's with him? I honestly do not know. Why are they taking him with them? He's so annoying! Heh, don't judge it, the originals are much better!)

At about nine o'clock you feel a soft thump on your shoulder and look around to see Patero's head on your shoulder, his eyes forming two fluttering black lines of thick lashes as he takes in warm, sleepy breaths against you.

A strange soft feeling creeps up from your chest to your mouth as you lift up the worryingly light boy and take him to his bed, carefully cocooning him with the thick duvet.

"...Night Patero."