Vincent is now in kindergarten. He’s ridden the bus to and from School maybe ten times now. He’s not crazy about it. He takes after his father.

Most of the kids seem anything but relaxed.

My nervousness about the School Bus goes all the way back to when my grown son started public school. He had watched his big sister get on the bus and couldn’t wait until he was big enough to ride it! On his first day of kindergarten he had a brand new driver. The schmuck got hopelessly lost and Ben got home almost two hours late. When the dumbass finally arrived in front of the house and opened the door, my then five-year old son leapt from the top step, out of the bus, and into my arms. He never rode a school bus again. The driver has since been onset with years of inconvenience and hardship. Okay I made the last part up, but we can hope.

We never did find out what took so long.

Now it’s Vince’s turn. He says the bus is too bumpy. He says the bus is too high. So on top of past trauma, add a kid who wants me to drive him to school everyday. That’s only the beginning. He’d probably like me following him around in school all day. I could take that for a while. But it wouldn’t be long before I insisted on the pointy scissors.

“Mrs. Lay! Billy got glitter on my laptop!”

Thanks for reading. Tell your pals.
Chris Zito