BOY's bus was 25 minutes late today. Coming home. I started to panic. His bus is never late coming home. At 15 minutes past I started to imagine horrible things. At 21 minutes past, I called the dispatch. The dispatch called the bus driver. The bus driver wasn't driving that route today. They put me on hold. 3 minutes ticked by...three long minutes. Finally, just as the dispatch came back on the line I saw the bus slowly coming up the street. Driving ever so carefully. Ever so...lost. I tried to focus on breathing, but knew that my eyes were looking a bit frantic.
Looking for your baby? the bus driver asked with a smile.
Yes. Yes, I am.
Honey, I was so...lost. And your BOY is SO smart. He told me what turns to take. I had to back up, turn around...I missed a turn.
By this time, BOY was absorbed in the various buttons on the bus. He grilled the bus driver.
What does this do? What is this for? What's that?
BOY appeared unconcerned about being on a hot bus an extra 25 minutes. I got him off the bus after his requisite 30 questions in 2 minutes had been answered.
I took in the pizza sauce on his cheek, and the stains on his shirt. I watched him. I asked him about school. He made me laugh. And then I started breathing again...