The rush of it all made me not really think about it as much as react to it.
As he has learned from dad, procrastinating in the morning is an art form. Push push push. And then off to the bus. In the rain. Of course. Bus late.
And then, rush rush rush to the school to meet the bus. And wait. And wait. And starting to get panicky. Where is the bus? Am I standing in the right place? Okay, calm down...the bus was late and it had more places to go and pick up. BUT WHERE IS IT? School is about to start! Did I miss it? I know he is expecting me to meet his bus...tears for the first and only time this morning of mornings are starting to well up... Oh good...the BUS!
As it pulls up, he sees me and his excitement and happiness to see me there is so wonderfully warm inside me.
And here it is--time to start letting go. Off to the class room..hmm...up to the second floor per instructions---ooops, wrong instructions, as I hold a little girl's lunch for her (a new friend at the bus stop, whose parents have missed her, she comes with us). Down the stairs---Ahh, my friend who's on the PTO! She knows where to go! She helps us to the class room--and helps the little girls fears by bringing her to her classroom.
Now I deposit my one and only, and my heart starts to sing and sink at the same time. Will he remember his snack is in his back pack? Will he listen to his teacher? Will he have fun? Will he learn? Will he fit in? Will he be his own wonderful individual self? Of course.
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