"What a nice, respectful young man."

That's what the case worker from DFCS (Department of Family and Children Services) said after she got off the phone with my "son."  At the end of the day, no matter what his father, or grandmother, or uncle, or anyone else has to say about him, it's going to be the case worker's opinion that counts.  

"He don't ever do what I tell him."  "I'm goin' t' whoop his ass."  "I'm goin' t' put you in boot camp."  "He always lyin'."  "Private school?  Boy, you think you better than everyone else?"  "You goin' do what I tell you."  

You would think that this is the baddest kid around.  Sure, he's not perfect.  But in the time I've taken to get to know him, I find that there is no guile ... there is a fierce loyalty ... there is a deep, abiding respect for his mother's memory... and the vile and despicable aspersions being cast by his own flesh and blood is disgusting.  While he has had to grow up fast in the past four years, he is still innocent and in need of love and support.  It's distressing me to know that his most immediate family who have been entrusted with his care can not even look past a social security check and see a child.  

I have enjoyed the past several months of our car rides from soccer practice spent in conversation.  It is heartening to see a responsible young man emerge from a confused and bullied little boy.  I have had the privilege and pleasure to watch him grow physically, mentally and emotionally.  

I have pled his case and now I can only wait for the proper authorities to act in the best interest of my "son."  My reward, you ask, for the time taken to look after him?  Having someone, whose opinion really counts, tell me what a nice, respectful young man he is.