Yesterday was Jack’s first full day of Kindergarten. Jack really wanted to ride the bus. Being somewhat of a nervous Nellie about the whole bus situation, I called at lunch time to verify that everything was in order. I even said, “Maybe I should just pick him up today.” I was assured that was a bad idea and that I should let him ride, if that’s what he would normally do. That made sense; after all we live in the same neighborhood as the damn school. What could go wrong? Bad question to ask.School let’s out at 3:25pm. Having no idea what time the bus would pass by, I walked down to the corner stop at 3:30 to wait. At 3:45 a bus stopped. My kid was not on it. I inquired as to the school and the driver’s name. Right school, but not the name I was given as the drive of Jack’s bus. So I continued to wait. And wait. And wait. Okay so maybe at 4 pm I started to worry.*
At this point, I drug Emie back down the street and got in the car to go find my damn cherub.
On my way to the school, I pass a bus, which I believe has the same number I was given for Jack’s. Of course, I’m not sure, because in my haste, I left the damn paper at home. I whip the Explorer around and follow the bus. Yep, follow it straight to my front door.
Jack hops off, says ‘hi mom’ and heads inside.
That’s it? Nothing else? Nope, that IS it. That is all I got. So okay. I approach the bus driver to find out what the hell happen. . .
The nice lady explains that she is, in fact, the name I was given, but that she should not be my son’s bus drive. She is the purple bus, but that he should be on the orange bus, (the one that passed by earlier). Apparently, last year our street was on the red bus’s route, but that the department of transportation did away with the red bus, (and didn’t tell the school, they found out on the first day of classes), and divided it’s route up between the purple and orange buses. But for some reason, my entire street was given to the purple bus, which does not go anywhere near my street. It, in fact, does not go through the neighborhood at all, only the outskirts of it.
Upon discovering Jack on her bus, she called him up to the front and inquired of him where he belonged. Jack stated his full name, (including middle name), his address and that his mother would be waiting there for him, so they should go. The bus driver then sat him in the front seat, closest to her, and drove back to the school to explain the situation. Jack then directed her to his home, where I was in fact waiting. Sort of.
Happy first day of kindergarten,
*by ’started to worry’, I mean hyperventilated, passed out, and then devised a plan to fire bomb the school board once I found my cherub.
3 Comments so far
someone’s head on a plate or a foot up their ass…that’s ALL I have to say.
I’m not surprised. After all, these are
I don’t even live in
Foot/ass, head/plate. It’s the only way.