My worst fear, realised.

Nearly 3 weeks ago, whilst up in North Wales, I took John over to meet up with his mum. The plan was he went north for 2 and a half weeks, and then caught the train back yesterday. However, things didn't go to plan.
About a week after he was up there, I get a call. "I'm seeing a solicitor."
I sort of expected this. The family will convince John that life up there in the land of the ex docker is good. He will live in his mum's already overcrowded 2 bedroom flat for a few months, whilst the council find her a new house. She will not have to work, because she'll become his carer.
Whoever said "the grass is always greener?," something that seems to be her family's motto. Well now they've convinced John of the same mistakes she's made, and yesterday he didn't return. You can be sure that today she's in the jobcentre, applying for all the money she can get as a single parent. In the longterm she'll have to get him re-registered disabled (something she doesn't stand a hope in hell of succeeding, on account of not understanding what's wrong with him), she'll have to get him into a new school (they're about to go back up there), where he'll have to get re-assessed for his statement (another thing they'll probably fail on) and he'll end up in a rough, main stream school with no help, no friends, and most importantly, no idea how he's going to do his exams. Or, as she's promised him, he's not going to go back to school at all.
Need I say any more?