"Come on Timmy, pack your stuff quick."

"I can't find my dinosaur."

Timothy's mother, Elizabeth, was getting impatient. She had apparently decided spending a little extra time to allow him to gather his favorite toys was worth avoiding a meltdown, but as the search dragged on the cost of that decision was growing.

"You can leave the dinosaur, daddy will bring it later."

I could hear the fear in her voice. The longer the search took, and the more noise Timothy made rifling through his toys, the more likely it was that she'd be caught trying to drive off into the night with a child she had lost custody of.

"What the hell, Liz?"

Johnathan stood at the door, already calling the police.

"John, I can explain."

"I'm sure you can, but you'll have to explain to the cops, because this stunt of yours is violating the hell out of your visitation rights."

"You can't do this to me, he's my son."

"I haven't done anything to you, these are all the consequences of your choices."

This was going to get ugly. It always did.

"Psst, Timothy, down here."

Timothy dropped down and crawled under the bed.

"You alright, kid?"

"I don't know. Mommy said she and Daddy weren't going to fight anymore, but now they're fighting again."

"I know. I know. It's not very fair to us, now is it."

"No. Mommy said we were going on vacation, and Daddy would come with us. But I don't think Daddy knew about the vacation."

"No, he didn't. Let's let the grown ups figure that stuff out. For now you should get some sleep."

"I don't know if I can sleep under the bed though."

"I do it all the time. Plus, look what I got."

"MY DINOSAUR!"

"That's right kid. Now let's get some sleep."