Kicking back watching Boo make his lunch for school.
Today has been long anticipated.
Preparations done and, mostly my, concerns addressed.
Today Boo finally rides the bus home.
The bus of many names:
The Blue Bus – so named cause, duh, it was blue. And as kids when we saw that bus we would run a mile cause we had no concept of Autism or disability or anything like that, so we ran. Nervous giggles choked us as we rollerskated and rode our bikes in the opposite direction.
The Short Bus – I believe this is a bus that is shorter than usual US school buses, but I only know of them because of the taunts and jokes about them made in movies.
The Special Bus – I guess cause it originates from the Special School. Often followed with facial gestures and spastic arm movements and the declaration that ‘I am special’ amidst childish laughter.
Or, just a fucking school bus. Arseholes.
For the longest time I have been driving 2 hours + a day to get him to school. And today for the first time he is going to trial coming home on the bus like nearly every other kid in the school.
As I dropped him off this morning he seemed in good spirits, his headphones ready and his (hand me down no sim card) iPhone full of his favourite tunes: The Grease Soundtrack, ACDC, radio edit Eminem, The Bee Gees and the entire Girls Generation discography. Oh and his own mashups and creations on Garage Band and some White Noise.
I got home full of excitement with the prospect of an extra hour or so in my day. Hung new curtains (fucking love EBAY), washed windows, did some party prep and watched those crazy bitches from Real Housewives of Orange County while pigging out on some Cheezels.
One on each finger, as it is ordained to eat them.
Just as I was licking the Cheezel dust off my shirt the phone rang.
Of. Fucking. Course. It. Did.
Boo is in a state. Ranting and raving and swearing and losing his ever loving shit, and was warned that if he kept it up they would call me.
I could hear him arguing in the background. In my minds eye I can see all 6ft 5 of him flailing his arms and flicking his head in tics of annoyance.
This is probably nerves about the bus. Trying to gain some control.
I guess it is to be expected, but I am sad nonetheless.
He still wants to try.
He promises to behave himself. The teachers believe it will be OK.
It is too late to go and get him, I won’t make it there before the bell.
I just have to trust that he had got it out of his system and will be calm for the ride.
And our 15 minute walk home from the bus stop.
I got to the bus stop in record time, 8 minutes. So I was 10 minutes early.
The bus arrived 20 minutes late.
The heavens opened 25 minutes before the bus.
My hair is a fucking mess and I am soaked to the bone, but the rain stopped in time for Boo to lumber off the bus, grunt at me in what I assume is the language of school bus travellers, and walk the obligatory ten steps ahead to give the illusion that a teen is wandering the mean streets alone.
So I am calling it a win.