The first day at Buzz’s new school went shockingly well. I’ve said the boy has a way of surprising me, and he did yet again. The second day, however, started with a bit of a hitch.
Buzz’s new school begins half an hour earlier than where he went before, and where Jedi still goes, so I gave us an extra 20 minutes in the morning. There’s a new routine to learn, and it could have a few kinks to work out. As such, I woke Buzz first and set his bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him while I went about dragging everyone else out of bed.
His bus would be at the end of our driveway by 8:10, they told me.
Constantly aware of the clock, I did my best to make sure we made good time. His teeth were brushed, his hair was combed, the pen he marked on his hand washed off. Pleased with myself for adhering to schedule, I bundled him up in his coat with his backpack on his shoulders and opened the front door, hurrying up to wait.
And there we stood, staring out the screen door. Waiting.
Hmmm… the bus should be here by now.
When some more minutes passed as if in slow motion, still hopefully and pathetically waiting like an anxious teenager being stood up at prom, I knew the time had come to accept that the bus should have definitely been there already.
I made a few calls and the bus finally arrived, eventually. He bounded aboard, glad to be on his way. But the second day at his new school and I already feel like stuffing myself with donuts to suppress this feeling like we’ve been dumped.