Rites of Transportation

While today marks the day that I begin working with a new family for daycare, today also marks an important day for Cael.  Today my big boy will be riding the bus to school, doing Lord knows what from the confines of those belt-less bench seats.  But instead of being worried, (as I am, admittedly) Cael is curious.  And vocal.

"Mom, where do I sit on the bus?"

"There aren't assigned seats, so you just find a place to sit.  And you already know a bunch of kids on that bus, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to sit with." 

"Can I talk on the bus?"

"You'll have to see what the bus driver's rules are.  But I think you can probably talk, as long as you aren't too loud or rowdy."

"Will the bus stop at the park?"

"No, dude.  The bus just goes to school."

"What if I don't have money to pay the driver?"

"This isn't that kind of bus.  You don't have to give the driver anything but a thank-you."

"Can I dance on the bus?"

"Probably not, Cael.  You need to stay in your seat." 

"Will you be mad if I sneak Oscar on to the bus?"

"Absolutely.  I would be mad, and your bus driver wouldn't pick you up.  So you'd be stuck with no way to get to school."

"Can I eat the bus?"

"No.  If you ate your lunch on the bus, what would you eat at lunch time?" 

"No Mom, can I eat the bus?"

"Eww, no!" 

"Can I jump out the window?"

"No..."

"Can I drive the bus like I drove the motorhome?"

"Not unless you want to go to prison for vehicular homicide."

"Can I go home with someone else and live with them?"

"That depends on who it is."

"Can I--  wait, what?"
"Nothing, man.  I'm gonna miss you while you're in school.  Be good and have a great day, okay?"

"Okay, mom.  I love you!  And when I get home, I'll be a bus boy.  You might not recognize me!"

Maybe not.  But if I get confused, I'll just listen for the dancing boy with a million questions, jumping out of the bus window while driving, munching on a bus seat with a dog by his side, on his way to a new home.