So we've moved to a new house, new county, new school. My son, at 7 years of age, has decided that he wants to ride the bus for the first time. I took him to school the first day, and my husband picked him up, but he wanted to RIDE on his second day.
We got up early and went the three blocks to the bus stop and waited... and waited... and waited. I thought we'd gotten there early enough, but when the bus was still not there after 15 minutes, we decided to go back home. Of course, as soon as we turned our backs to the road and made it halfway back to the car, here came the bus. Which we missed because seeing no one waiting, it slowed down then went on.
Okay, fine. Lesson learned... don't give up on the bus. So we drove to school and rehearsed what bus and what stop he needed to get off at. Repeating. Repeating. Cheery wave and he was off to class.
This afternoon, I got to the bus stop 20 minutes early and waited... and waited... and waited. My husband called 1 minute after the bus was supposed to arrive. "No. It hasn't arrived yet, honey - I'll call you as soon as he gets off the bus." I wait some more.
Finally, 16 minutes late, the bus comes down the hill, slows down but doesn't stop. I take off running after it. Running. Running. Heart bursting. It's 96 degrees outside, 95% humidity. I'm in long, black pants. Running. The bus stops to make a left turn and I actually catch up to it (ran about a block) and I'm yelling his name and pounding on the doors. The driver opens the door and I scream at her "WHERE IS MY SON?" She nods to herself and asks very quietly, calmly, "That would be Z-boy?" Yes. "He's back at the school. He couldn't remember where he was supposed to get off." Oh, thank God. Thank you, bus lady.
I drive, shaking, to the school. He sees me coming and seems to shrink a little. He is embarassed and acting silly, which now that I see him in person, pisses me off. I am so angry I cannot see straight, but act normal in front of the school secretary. She gives me a new bus schedule and we both drill him on which bus and what stop. I think he's got it.
We get in the car. A few bad words fly around in the passenger compartment, but the secretary realized that I needed a moment to calm down - hence the quiz for Z-boy. The words aren't as bad or as vehement as they would have been if I could have just snatched his scruff and propelled him out to the car. Thank you, Secretary.
We go to the bank (closed on the house today, hurray!), then home. I am normal now - and so is he. He plops down at the kitchen counter and starts his homework.
Tomorrow, we will do it again. Hopefully without all the drama.