Picking a Seat

It’s hard for me to believe that both of the boys already are old enough to ride the bus to school each day. I asked Creed some questions about Heath on the bus. Creed is used to riding a bus to daycare, but this is a new adventure for Heath.

First, Creed told me he doesn’t sit with his brother on the bus. He has a friend who boards shortly before he does, so second graders must stick together.

I wasn’t worried ... until then.

I thought about it the entire next day as I drove home to meet the bus. Heath ... just sitting there. Who does he sit with? What does he think about? Is he lonely?

He just sits beside somebody, he told me. He doesn’t even know the names. I asked him what he thought about on the bus. At first he said, “I don’t know.” Then, he smiled at me, “I think about you and how much I love you.” Oh, he so knows how to answer.

He told me he isn’t interested in making friends.

Creed claims that Heath does have friends on the bus and that he talks to him, as well.

Is this like one of those dropping the boys off at daycare instances. You know, the ones where they cry and hold onto their mother’s leg to make her feel terrible for going to work. Then, the moment she is out of sight they smile and start playing with friends. It’s a skill children have. I’ve seen many utilize this tool against parents to make sure they feel guilty for having employment.

I spent hours analyzing the bus incident. I decided Heath probably is okay or the bus driver would have notified me. After all, sometimes Heath does tell me it is fun to ride the bus. He never cries when he has to get on it. He smiles as he boards. He’s been waiting two years for his chance to get on a bus.

I also began to think about my bus riding days. It always seemed some of the best friends were those who sat beside you on a seat every morning and evening. I still miss some of my bus buddies.

Just as I was about to come to terms with my five-year-old son riding the bus, he threw another curve ball. He told me at dinner that same night that he was going to go into the army — “the camouflage army.” “Really?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “But I might get dead cause it’s dangerous.”

Oh my! I can’t handle this. I’m just coming to terms with riding a bus.