Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
The Bus Ride
Last Friday I went with John's preschool class to a local farm for their annual fall field trip. Paul took a similar trip when he was four to a different farm. I was home with John at the time and was able to attend with him in tow. John and I drove separately while Paul enjoyed his first ride on a bus. The weather was miserable, but everyone had a ton of fun. When it was John's turn to go on the field trip as a big, bad preschooler, he was beyond excited about the bus ride. Despite having previous experiences of riding a city bus (through the Bronx no less) and multiple airport shuttles, he was convinced that riding a school bus was magical. That he would step on it and be transformed into a KINDERGARTNER. Nope, I would reply, calming squashing his dreams, you'll still be in preschool. Nevertheless, he remained excited and hopeful as we waited for the bus on Friday morning. When it arrived, the children and a few parent chaperones foolish enough not to drive their own cars boarded the bus with a buzz of anticipation. Video cameras were rolling, camera phones clicking; you'd think it was high school graduation or something. (For proof that I am not exaggerating my point here, see photo below.)
As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, the children began to squeal with an excitement generally reserved for Santa Claus. Every bump we hit, every turn we made, every light we came to was accompanied by similar noises of delight. Well, except for when one of the little girls in the back whacked her head on the seat in front of her when the bus stopped suddenly. Then there were sobs. Unfortunately, our bus driver got lost on the way to the farm and a 40 minute trip took us over an hour, but we made it there in one piece and had a marvelous time in the mud. Thankfully the rain held off until the ride home, which is more than I can say for Paul's trip. Here he is, three years ago, happy as a clam with his preschool buddies.
The next day, John accepted the fact that he was not yet in Kindergarten and seems content to watch his brother board the bus every morning. For now anyway.
As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, the children began to squeal with an excitement generally reserved for Santa Claus. Every bump we hit, every turn we made, every light we came to was accompanied by similar noises of delight. Well, except for when one of the little girls in the back whacked her head on the seat in front of her when the bus stopped suddenly. Then there were sobs. Unfortunately, our bus driver got lost on the way to the farm and a 40 minute trip took us over an hour, but we made it there in one piece and had a marvelous time in the mud. Thankfully the rain held off until the ride home, which is more than I can say for Paul's trip. Here he is, three years ago, happy as a clam with his preschool buddies.
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