Huckle's social worker is transferring to another city, and likely won't see him again. She and CPS consider his case closed, even though we're still in the appeal window, and at some point we'll be transferred to an adoptive caseworker.

Huckle's social worker has been on his case for a bit over a year. She loves him. She adores him. But she also identified with his mom, trusted her too much, and because of that she feels that she failed Huck. Add that to the 3-moves-in-2-weeks drama that Huck might blame her for, and she was wary of coming out to the house to visit with him one last time. She really wanted to see him, plus there were gifts from CPS and a bag of clothing from his family to be given, so she suggested that we come into CPS.

Huck freaked the minute the building was in view. I did the best I could throughout the visit, and I don't think it was as bad as it could have been, but he clearly associates the building with a number of scary things. He asked at least five times if he'd be going home. He asked where our dogs were. He asked if he had a bedroom. He told his SW that he wasn't tired and didn't want to take a nap (he's slept on the floor of her office before). He had a "sit down potty" accident in his pull-up, the first he's had since The Hub let him drink a pitcher of apple juice in one day.

After about five minutes of face-burying and behind-leg hiding, the SW's boss said, "Oh, he's scared you're going to leave him here!"

I was not amused.


There has been much reassuring in the past twelve hours, including a suprise visit to my parents' house to drive home the idea that he's here to stay and that there are lots of people who lurve him. But his brain is overloaded, the old panic is back, and there've been more tears today than in the last two weeks. It took him three hours to fall asleep. He's crying in his sleep as I type this.

I should have just stopped the car the second he said, "Me is not going in there!" instead of telling him his SW had presents for him. I shouldn't have hyped the visit, or how much fun it would be when his SW came back around to see him. As much as I've told him that he's styaing with us, that he's safe, that he won't be going anywhere, his brain rejects those ideas, rejects me, and goes with what he knows.

It is rough.