Got a call at 4:00, when my son was supposed to be visiting with us – his caseworker didn’t know where he was, and he wasn’t answering his phone. Thankfully, he was only at work, I think, but the visit was canceled; I found out thirty minutes later.

Of course, she didn’t know “when” he could visit again; she couldn’t find the meeting she’d booked with me in two weeks on her calendar either. Then she changed that to a “family team” meeting – you know, the kind where all the hearts-and-flowers-and-rainbow people sit around and tell you that you’re a lousy parent, but your kid is just aces? Yeah, that one. Can’t wait.

Even, or maybe especially, in a divorce situation, regular visitation is ordered – and not at the whim of one parent or another. Oh, sure, any parent can engage in PAS and refuse visitation but apparently, when the state is the party with custody, anything goes. No complaints allowed.

Or maybe those just haven’t yet reached the right ears.

Oh, yeah – she and I are supposed to “visit” or “meet” or whatever next week. No clue what that’s about – she’ll probably ask, again, if she can do anything for me. Right. I think she’s doing plenty only, of course, it really has nothing to do with me.

You might be wondering why a kid’s work schedule is more important than visiting his family? Me too. It’s because his caseworker doesn’t want him to lose his job, the one he’s going to have to quit next week anyway because they’ve found him a lovely foster home fifteen miles away. Okey dokey then.

So I spent all day, waiting to see my son. His little brother was waiting too, and his dad. Waiting is highly overrated.

I must add, however, that the caseworker told me she “scolded” my son. Nice, huh? I wonder what that means. Of course, I would have preferred that she tell him, sorry, no dice, I’ll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes.

And, wonder of wonders, my son called me. Now, we do text a bit almost every day and he’ll chat with me on Facebook nearly every morning that he’s at work (cushy job, huh?). But this afternoon he called. And apologized for not coming. And asked us to come see him tonight at work.

Unfortunately, we can’t. It’s not allowed.

And then he said “love you.”

It’s really hard to figure out, under the best of circumstances, why kids do what they do; sometimes we have discussions about behavior or quirks or family traits – but really, the only person who knows why they undertake an action is the person engaging in a particular behavior.

But still, there are questions:

Why would a kid want so badly to leave a home where his mother tells him she loves him, several times a day, and to which he responds in kind – even when he’s out in public, with his friends?

Why would a kid who hugs his parents and his little brother before leaving for school or work say such horrible things about them?

Why, after telling his family that going to boarding school is “the best thing” for him to do to get his life together, would a kid then claim he was “shipped off”? Why, too, would he then voluntarily leave, or arrange to be removed from that home?

But even more questions arise when one states the obvious, such as why a kid would want to leave a home where:

He’s learning to drive and, if he saves his money, can get his license and insurance?

A home in which there are plenty of entertainment options, such as an Xbox, Playstation, his own computer, cable TV, a pool table, a basketball hoop, and so forth?

A place where he can ask, and often, be allowed to hang with friends or go to the mall or movies?

Opportunities to travel, camp, vacation, go to college?

Over the years, my son has been in Scouts, traveled to visit family, gone on vacations, played several sports, been in band, participated heavily in church and volunteer activities – yet now he claims abuse and is more willing to live with strangers than his own family.

I don’t understand.

Perhaps it’s because we require respect, and pleasant speech and behavior; perhaps it’s because we require him to do his own laundry and clean up his own room. Maybe we ask too much in the way of chores – which is really just one or two things a week – or because we need to know who he is spending time with, and where he is, and we want him home at a particular hour of the night.

I don’t understand. I thought that’s what good parents do.