Free Tough, Tough Toys for Tough, Tough Boys by Will Self Page B

legs. ‘Shall we go in,’ he said to the Greens, and indicated the open door of his consulting room.
    Neither Miriam nor Daniel had had any idea of what to expect from this encounter, but in the event they were utterly charmed by Philip Weston. His consulting room was more in the manner of a bright, jolly nursery, a logical extension of the waiting room outside. While Humpy toddled about, picking up toys from plastic crates, or pulling down picture books from the shelves, the child psychologist chatted with his parents. So engaging and informal was his manner that neither Miriam nor Daniel felt they were being interviewed or assessed in any way – although that was, in fact, what was happening.
    Philip Weston chatted their worries out of them. His manner was so relaxed, his demeanour so unjudgmental, that they both felt able to voice their most chilling fears. Was Humpy perhaps autistic? Or brain-damaged? Was Miriam's age in some way responsible for his learning difficulty? To all of these Philip Weston was able to provide instant and total refutation. ‘You can certainly set yourselves at rest as far as any autism is concerned,’ he told them. ‘Humpy engages emotionally and sympathetically with the external world; as you can see now, he's using that stuffed toy to effect a personation. No autistic child ever engages in such role-playing activity.’
    Nor, according to Philip, was Humpy in any way retarded: ‘He's using two or more coloured pencils in that drawing, and he's already forming recognisable shapes. I think I can tell you with some authority that, if anything, this represents advanced, rather than retarded, ability for a child of his age. If there is a real problem here, Mr and Mrs Green, I suspect it may be to do with a gift rather than a deficiency.’
    After twenty minutes or so of chatting and quietly observing Humpy, who continued to make use of Philip Weston's superb collection of toys and diversions, the child psychologist turned his attention directly to him. He picked up a small tray full of outsized marbles from his desk and called to the toddler, ‘Humpy, come and look at these.’ Humpy came jogging across the room, smiling broadly. In his cute, Osh-Kosh bib ‘n’ braces, his brown curls framing his chubby face, he looked a picture of health and radiance.
    Philip Weston selected one of the marbles and gave it to Humpy. ‘Now, Humpy,’ he said, ‘if I give you two of these marbles’ – he rattled the tray – ‘will you give me that marble back?’ Without even needing to give this exchange any thought Humpy thrust the first marble in the child psychologist's face. Philip took it, put it in the tray, selected two other shiny marbles and gave them to him. Humpy grinned broadly. Philip turned to Miriam and Daniel saying, ‘This is really quite exceptional comprehension for a child Humpy's age – ‘ He turned back to Humpy.
    ‘Now, Humpy, if I give you two of these remaining marbles, will you give me those two marbles back?’
    Humpy stared at Philip for some seconds, while storm clouds gathered in his blue, blue eyes. The little boy's brow furrowed, and his fist closed tightly around his two marbles. ’Besserwessi!’ he spat at Philip, and then, ’Grundgesetz!‘
    It was to Philip's credit, and a fantastic exemplar of his clinical skills, that he didn't react at all adversely to these bits of high-pitched nonsense, but merely put the question again: ‘These two marbles, Humpy, for your two, what do you say?’
    Humpy opened his hand and looked at the two blue marbles he had in his possession. Philip selected two equally shiny blue marbles from the tray and proffered them. There was silence for some moments while the two parties eyed one another's merchandise. Then Humpy summoned himself. He put one marble very carefully in the side pocket of his overalls, and the other in the bib pocket. This accomplished, he said to Philip with great seriousness, ’Finanzausgleichgesetz,’ turned