Let me introduce you to Lenny, the leopard gecko. He’s the newest member of our family and, honestly, preparing for him, welcoming him and trying to take care of him has taken a huge amount of dedication, perseverance, and, above all, patience.

First, we had to get a suitable home for him, full of suitable things, at suitable temperatures. It turns out that not everything that is sold for leopard geckos is actually suitable. So we had to learn – and are still learning.

We learnt that in the reptile owner world, it’s not a “tank” but a “vivarium”, or “viv” for short. We learnt that the stuff you cover the floor with is called “substrate” and that some substrates are better than others. We learnt about the temperatures required, about misting, shedding, caves, calcium powder and feeding. We learnt how to keep crickets alive to feed the geckos, and that they need a varied diet. We learnt to monitor the temperatures of the hot and cold sides and to give a natural light cycle. We learnt that geckos like a cluttered cage, full of things to explore, climb on and hide under.

When we collected him, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more responsible for anything. I’m sure, in truth, I must have felt the same weight of responsibility when I brought our dog home, or our rabbits, and most certainly our children! But in that moment, and in the days which have followed, the determination to keep that creature alive and thriving has been almost primal.

These are special animals, originally from bigger, wilder places. It’s a privilege to be able to have one under our roof, and I feel that keenly.

We’ve had to be patient. Patient in getting the temperatures right. Patient with ourselves in the learning. Patient with each other as we seek to manage his care. And patient with him, as he adjusts to his new home.

Lenny is beginning to venture out more now. He’s beginning to seem more relaxed. But he’s not feeding brilliantly and he’s still wary of us. We worry, and we want him to be ok, to be settled now. But settling and feeling safe take time. It can’t be rushed.

It is the same with people. To feel safe is a huge, important thing; only when we feel safe, can we truly thrive.

Both in my role as an adoptive parent and as a teacher for children with send, I see this daily. Sadly, our country isn’t doing all that well right now in helping our children to feel safe, particularly those who are neurodivergent, or who have already suffered trauma in their lives. Words like “resilience” are bandied around, but environments can be hostile, and expectations don’t always allow for patience, time and the hard but lovely work of relationship building.

When Lenny the gecko feels safe, and has learnt that we will reliably feed him, be gentle and calm and trustworthy, we will be able to enjoy watching him and handling him more. The work and nurture we have put in will have earned us a special, unique relationship.

With each other, we can do the same. Whether with the children or the adults in our lives, we can do the patient work of being curious, learning, adapting and nurturing. We can be kind, we can learn to do better, we can persevere. We can show patience. And out of all this, we will find that joyful relationships grow. And when our relationships feel safe and joyful, we can begin to thrive.