difficult child and I toured Juv Det Fri the 13th. We waited in the new bldg, and a man named Ron walked us over to the old facility across the street. He said he couldn't give us a tour of the new bldg for confidentiality reasons (the kids are under 18). It was satisfyingly morose and draconian. Peeling paint, the smell of urine everywhere, no windows, 9 X 9 ft. cinderblock rms. with-locks. Ron brought difficult child in the front door and showed him exactly what would happen if the police were to bring him in. He made him put his hands behind his back like he was handcuffed, and wouldn't let him put his hands in his pockets the entire time we were there. He showed him where the kids are strip-searched, where they are logged into the databanks, where their clothes are taken away and they get orange jumpsuits with-old underwear (he really emphasized that); where they eat, study, play basketball and how they see their parents through a scratched 12" window. (The new facility isn't peeling and smelly, so in fact, the old facility is even better for "Scared Straight" tours.) He pulled up a chair in a smelly room and asked difficult child what brought him here. difficult child told him he got in fights with-his mom. Ron said, "WHAT? You don't argue with-your mom! Do you know how hard your parents work to buy the clothes you wear?" Etc. He read him the riot act, an almost identical speech to what our child psychiatric said a few wks ago. (I think they send these people to the same schools. ) He introduced difficult child to a few employees and told them that difficult child has problems arguing with-his mother. They all shook their heads and told him to shape up. Sometimes we just stood there and all stared at difficult child while he got more and more uncomfortable. Sounds mean, but he really needed to know what it feels like to be uncomfortable. Then Ron took us on a ride in the city van to see the East End (our "bad" neighborhood), which difficult child has never seen b4. As it turned out, it was a beautiful sunny day and all the trash was cleaned up. But still, he could see the graffiti and people wandering and hanging out in doorways. Ron did an excellent job. Bent over backwards to spend time with-us and talk. I was VERY impressed by his concern and attitude and demeanor and... I just can't say enough. (Yes, I'm going to write a thank you note. He deserves a raise!) difficult child was very quiet and subdued the whole time. When we left, Ron let difficult child release his hands from behind his back, and shook hands with-him. When we got back to my car, difficult child was all questions and comments, quite the chatterbox. Then he started in with-"I know you would never put me in a place like that because it would hurt you more than me. You would never want to see me like that." He went on for a few min., and I finally said, "You think you're pretty important, don't you? You'd better start thinking about how important WE are." He said, "I know, but I know you adopted me because you wanted me and you'd never send me away." Sigh. He went back to his old ways immediately, complaining because we were running errands while we were on spring break (it's not my fault his friends were all busy!). He is very negative and a big complainer. I reminded him that despite the fact it was spring break, he was still on restriction from his last explosion and that his social activities were very limited. I brought up the subject again that he could only play the last 2 innings of the next few baseball games. (This, on the suggesion of the child psychiatric, as part of his discipline for exploding last time and blocking my way out of his bedroom. husband thought it was a great idea.) He exploded. He threw and broke everything in my car--while I was driving. We had just been to husband ofc to p/u difficult child baseball bat and glove, and I made a U-turn while half the planet laid on their horns, and I turned around and went back. difficult child broke several CD covers, emptied out the glove compartments and threw everything, emptied the ctr console, threw the hand lotion, eyedrops, tore apart brand new containers with-wrappers on them... screamed and yelled that he didn't want to go to baseball anymore (the game was at 5:30), he hated me, hated Dr. Riley, hoped I got run over and killed by a car. I was driving and the traffic was heavy so I couldn't do much to stop him. I called husband to tell him I was on my way back. It took us a few min. to get difficult child out of the car... husband finally dragged him out, then squatted on the grass and talked to him. (I called later and husband had 30 patients waiting and he was way behind for the rest of the day. I felt badly, but there was no way I was going to keep difficult child with-me after that. He'd threatened to break all his glass snowglobes he'd earned back, break the computer, etc., plus, the last time this happened, I lost 3 hrs of work and I hate to say it, but husband needs to have the point driven home, that yes, you do lose important work time when difficult child acts up and this is a serious issue.) difficult child didn't want to go in the clinic, but it's scary, on a busy street, so husband made difficult child promise to stay put. Turned out he stayed outside and steamed for an hr! When he finally went in, husband pd him $1/hr to shred paper and file things. The $ went immediately back to us for things he owes us. I was drained. So was husband! He got a good dose of it. I could have chosen another time to remind difficult child about our conversation with-Dr. Riley (I don't even remember how it came up in the car) but don't know how successful it would have been if I'd done it at home. He would have smashed the computer and all the snowglobes. If it had been on the baseball field, he would have run away. I'm always trying to outguess him and figure out the time to remind him or our plans, and I can never be sure he'll remember the original conversation (despite the fact he memorizes baseball scores, and can recite lb-for-lb exactly how much his weight has changed every day for the past month), or if he's convinced himself that we've forgotten. I can read The Explosive Child a million times and still never get it right. husband insists difficult child took his pill. I think difficult child fooled him. difficult child even admitted to Ron at Juv Det that he hides his pills. I suspect it was the accumulation of all the stress from the tour, the disappointment with-a crummy spring break, the unavailability of friends, and then the reminder that he couldn't play the entire game and that his coach knew that he was being disciplined and why. (In fact, the plan was that he was to tell the coach face-to-face why he was benched, and I thought I'd give him time to rehearse the whole thing. NOT!) The good news is that the child psychiatric told us to keep piling things on difficult child until we found his trigger. I found it! Baseball! How ironic. I feel like I could have skipped the Juv Det tour. Then again, maybe not. The part that most impressed difficult child about Juv Det, by the way, was the part about wearing someone else's stained, used underwear. He repeated that to husband several times. Now I know why Ron repeated it, too... that's the kind of thing that sinks in with-kids that age. It's concrete and easy to understand, gross (a boy thing!) and out-of-the norm. (He sized us up pretty quickly... difficult child was wearing his Little League shirt and cool shoes, and I was wearing a pink blazer and dress pants... I'm sure he lined up his mental ammunition the min. he laid eyes on us! ) We let difficult child play with-friends today, but 1st he had to help me garden (I threw my back out on Easter Sun.), trim vines off some trees, feed the dogs, start a homework project, and most of all, clean up all the junk in the back seat of my car and put it away neatly in the glove compartments. We played catch and batted outside today and had fun (especially since my back is better) and he was very funny. I was glad to be able to play because there's a huge Nor'easter coming in tonight and it will storm for a couple of days.