Free Little Prisoners by Casey Watson

been on to the Education Department to see about moving the kids to a primary school close to you for the new term. I believeshe’s also asked for a full report to be sent on from their old school which, once she’s got it, she plans to bring over to discuss with you.’
    ‘Great,’ I said. Not so much about having the kids for longer – Mike and I had already crossed that bridge, and we were fine with it. But because, logistically, this would cause a real headache. ‘So it’s going to be a bloody rush job, then. Brilliant. There’s only a fortnight – slightly less – before the start of the autumn term, and I’m going to have a whole set of uniforms, PE kit and so on to go and buy. And try to socialise them too – John, you really have no idea how bad things are. They don’t even know how to eat using cutlery! Or dress themselves, or wash themselves – or anything, basically. How the hell am I going to have them ready for a completely new school in two weeks?’
    I also thought, but didn’t mention, that it wasn’t just about the kids. It wasn’t just a case of the kids adjusting to a new school, it was how the school would cope with having them !
    ‘I know,’ John soothed. ‘I do appreciate how tough it’s going to be. Just stick to the basics – concentrate on the simple stuff. And it might be worth popping down to speak to the school too? You know – you and Mike, just to prepare them.’
    Just like that, eh? I almost laughed out loud when I put the phone down. Outside, I could see the pair of them in the garden, playing. Except they weren’t playing. All they were really doing was pushing one another around and squealing. They didn’t seem to even know how to play. Notunless you sat them down and explained every single thing to them. John was right. I didn’t know where to start.
    So, stuff what I’d been told, I would do this by numbers. Well, stickers on charts, anyway. I set to work.
    I made two charts that morning. One for each child. And on each I had written three statements. 1) Today I had a poo in the toilet and wiped my bottom. 2) Today I washed my hands after using the toilet. And 3) Today, I didn’t wee anywhere but the toilet. For each successfully completed task, there would be a gold star awarded, and if each child received three stars, they would be given a small chocolate bar.
    I found myself wincing slightly as I explained all this to the kids. I knew social services would be tutting in disapproval if they could hear me. Using sugar treats as enticements was an absolute no-no, naturally, but I also knew something else: chocolate works. Anyway, I reasoned, this was surely so much better than the alternative scenario, which social services weren’t having to clean up. And they couldn’t hear me, could they? So they would be none the wiser. Though I did make a mental note to be extra vigilant where the brushing of teeth was concerned.
    I thought that Ashton, given his age, might have been embarrassed at such a chart, but he was just as excited as Olivia was, bless him.
    ‘I bet I win chocolate every day!’ he said brightly. ‘I’m much better at this stuff than she is. And it’s good, because if we wipe our bums, the kids in the new school won’t call us smelly.’

    I had been pleased at how the kids had responded to the news that they were going to a new school. Even at their young age, I sensed they were glad to have a chance of a clean slate. ‘No, sweetheart, they won’t call you that,’ I agreed. ‘Is that what they called you in your old school, then?’
    ‘They called me pissy pants,’ Olivia chipped in now. ‘But I’m not, am I Casey?’
    ‘Yeah you are,’ Ashton said. ‘You’re always pissing yourself.’
    At this slight, Olivia proceeded to thump Ashton, kicking him and thumping him, while showering him with a stream of choice obscenities. It was like some sort of default, this automatic physicality. Almost as if they were young animals, who knew no