You have a phone call.

In child welfare there is such a thing as the “Safety Plan.” It really is just a piece of paper that the youth in care signs, along with the caregiver. It says, yeah we all know what I did, I’m going to tell you I am not going to do it again, you know I likely will, and here is how we are all going to work to prevent the inevitable. I am certain these are just pieces of paper someone came up with to create a paper trail that covers ones butt. For example, let’s say you historically do dumb things in your bedroom when you shut the door… because you are a teenager. Insert safety plan that says your door is to be open unless you are going to bed. Which is completely effective because all teenagers go to directly to bed at bedtime, along with doing every other thing they should. I am still waiting for a safety plan to cover shoplifting. When I get it, I will be sure to share all of the agreed upon, and effective *new* rules I am to implement that I am already implementing. Yes, I know that if I keep rolling my eyes like that my face will get stuck that way.

Notice of this shoplifting safety plan was dropped on me maybe a week ago. Someone does something stupid. I have to report it. DING DING, hellllooooooo, Safety Plan. Anyway, this has been reported before so I didn’t really expect the Safety Plan. Days later I get notice that there will be a Safety Plan drafted. Fun. While I’m waiting for said shoplifting Safety Plan to finally make an appearance, theft continues, this time from my safe. Thankfully what she stole was nothing of value to me, but instead a cell phone. Why the cell phone? Because she has a safety plan that says she can’t have one, duh. Why? Same reason she can’t have the door closed, second duh. It’s a circle. You don’t want the details, and yes, my brain also hurts.

I get a call at work to inform me that the theft has occurred. Which now only triggers my favorite word, snitch, to run through my head. I’m sure I will be dealing with that part at some point in the very near future. Great, something else to look forward to. Now I can’t concentrate and I’m annoyed, which means I am no longer productive so it’s time to throw in the towel at the office for the day. ARGH. I give up and I head home.

Now knowing something that I know she doesn’t know that I know, you’re welcome for that, I sneak up the steps to see the door closed. Safety plan violation one. Check. I very quickly whip open the door to the shrieks of one very displeased teenager. Judging by the startled look on her face, conveniently now covered with what I’d describe as an evening layer of makeup, and that damn bralette thing, she is on FaceTime with someone. I’d also bet that someone isn’t a new girl she met at school. Safety plan violation two. Check. I put out my hand, demanded the phone we both know she had and walked out. Just because I am so tired of dealing with cell phones, dishonestly, and all around stupid things, I walked outside, placed the phone in the street and ran it over with my car. I don’t expect it will be of much use for FaceTime any longer. Hubby, “Did it make you feel better to crush that?” I don’t even know why he asks such questions. Of course it did. I mean I put it in a ziplock to store in my safe, in case anyone feels the need to steal it again.

I’m still waiting for that Safety Plan that covers stealing.