Since the first day of preschool, Scooter has spent a lot of time intrigued by the big, yellow school bus that brings his classmates to school and picks them up again. As we headed home each day, he would cry over the fact that he did not get to ride on it. The weeping that accompanied the complaints was full of true sadness, not just the usual crying of a meltdown.
At the IEP meeting, the district person informed us that bus transportation was one of our rights as part of the developmental preschool program. Trillian and I, without any real hesitation, said it wouldn't be necessary: we live five blocks from the school, it's nice mother-son time. A two-minute bus ride seemed a little silly.
On Thursday, the second day he was in preschool, however, we picked up the paperwork to put him on the bus. Turned it back in on Friday. Crossed our fingers that it wouldn't take too long to set up, that we weren't lying when we told him he would start riding the bus sometime the second week.
Can I put into words how ecstatic I was when Transportation called this morning and asked if we would like for him to start riding the bus today?
He asked about the bus for hours before school, was ready 15 minutes early, could barely keep himself from running out the door when the bus turned down our street, quickly mounted those steep stairs without looking back at me (until I reminded him he needed his backpack).
I told the bus driver that I thought he should be OK. She smiled at me, "They're usually crying the first time they get on the bus."
Needless to say, all he could talk about when he got home was the bus: "I got to ride the bus." What he did today: "I got to ride the bus." His favorite thing about school: "I got to ride the bus." Only with the greatest of coaxing could we figure anything else out about his day.
I'm not looking forward to telling him he won't get to ride the bus for kindergarten.