The wheels on the bus go round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, the mama on the bus needs a bag to puke in, a bag to puke in...
Yes. I rode a bus today for the first time in, oh, I don’t know. 20 plus years? I spent a godly portion of my elementary school years riding a bus up and down a winding mountain canyon and really, I would rather never ride another school bus again. (Did I mention that I get carsick?) But today was the kindergarten bus ride-along. A parent got to catch the bus at the stop and ride to school with their kid. Which is fine. I can handle that. No problem. I’m a big girl and we only live about 3miles from the school.
At exactly 11:53 my over-enthusiastic kindergartner and I walk to the bus stop, him chattering non-stop about how fun it was going to be. I nod and smile, silently recalling the second most vivid school bus memory I have; the time I threw up. I had tacos for lunch that day. (The most vivid school bus memory, in case you’re wondering, is Huey Lewis and the News. Whoever got on first got to listen to their cassette tape and it always seemed to be the kid that brought the “I Want a New Drug” tape. But I digress. )
Like I said, I’m a big girl now. I wasn’t afraid.
We get on the bus, Nick picking the very first seat and we’re on our way. But not to the school...no. Apparently we were one of the first to be picked up, so for the next half hour we drive across town picking up other kindergartners. It’s 90 degrees out and 120 on the bus. The bouncing and swaying of the bus is doing me in.
Did I mention I get carsick? Really, really carsick.
By this time, the sweat is running down my neck and pooling in my bra. I’m trying desperately not to embarrass my kid by throwing up all over the front of the bus, but I’m afraid that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Nick is sitting beside me, asking questions, wanting to sing the “wheels on the bus song” and I know that if I open my mouth, it’s all over, but I grit my teeth and mumble through a couple of verses, praying to the forces that be that the engine explode or a tire blow out. Anything to stop the horrid thing.
Finally, mercifully, we get to the school and stop. I’ve never been so grateful to get out of an automobile in all my life. I had to stop myself from falling onto the ground and kissing the gravel. We toured the school, checked out the art, music, computer rooms, the gym, the library, cafeteria and their classrooms. Nick found his locker and was excited to discover that he could fit inside of it.
Then we had to board the bus again. I contemplated walking home. I really did. But I got on the bus again and this time Nick decided he wanted to sit with a friend and I sat with his friend’s mom. I had warned her ahead of time that she may not want to sit too close, but as a former military woman with 5 children, she had no fear. Long story short (or is it too late for that?), I made it home alive.
And even while I was sitting right next to Nick, there was a little girl sitting behind us who kept pulling Nick’s hair and telling him to shut up if he tried to talk. If I wasn’t trying so hard not to throw up, I would’ve talked to Nick about it. He would just sit there and take it. I don’t want him to be a bully, but I don’t want him to be the one that’s bullied. He needs to learn to stand up for himself. I’m all for peace, but I have no problem with him hitting back if need be.
I have a feeling that the bus is going to teach Nick a few lessons about the evils of fellow small children.