I Ride the Little Yellow Bus

When I registered Abbie for preschool, I had to make many decisions.

How many days per week do I want her in preschool? As many as possible.

Do I want her in the morning or afternoon class? Morning. In our house, morning is for learning, afternoon is for napping.

Do I want her to take the bus? The what?

I never expected to have Abbie take the bus. I expected to drop her off and pick her up at the school. Judging from the lines of running cars parked outside every elementary school in town around 2:40, that’s what every other parent of children age 15 and under does. I never even considered the bus as an option since I’d never seen a preschooler take a bus.

When the administrators offered the bus service, they likely recognized the confused look on my face, and explained the process. They would pick her up and drop her off at my driveway, so she wouldn’t have to walk to a bus stop. She’ll be strapped into a bus seat like a child car seat, so she wouldn’t be roaming the aisles and bouncing from seat to seat like I remember doing in my bus riding days. They use a chaperone in addition to the driver to watch the kids, so they’ll be closely supervised and won’t be subjected to any of the horrors I witnessed in my bus riding days.

I was unconvinced. If she hates the bus, she’ll scream the whole way to preschool. That will put her in a bad mood for preschool. Then she’ll scream the whole way back to our house. This pattern will repeat until they send her home with a note asking to never put her on the bus again and/or never bring her to preschool again.

The administrators noticed the boys running roughshod under my feet, and encouraged me to try the bus. I compromised and said I’d drive her for the first week. If she’s doing well adjusting to preschool, I’ll add the trauma of a bus ride to her life.

At the end of the first week, it was obvious that she was comfortable in preschool. They serve snacks, which helps. So I arranged her busing.

Her first day on the bus was last Monday. When the bus came down our block, I started Abbie down our driveway. I narrated the action using exciting phrases such as “oh boy, the bus!” and “you get to ride the school bus!” My hope was to make the bus sound like a good thing, and hopefully Abbie wouldn’t wise up until she was long out of my earshot.

The bus stopped, the door opened, and I walked her to the steps. I expected some hesitation, but she bounded up the stairs. Obviously my exciting phrases worked. She was just as happy when she returned home to me.

As the week progressed, I expected the excitement to wear off. Eventually she’d discover that the bus meant leaving home, and would start screaming as I walked her to the bus. She remained as excited for the bus every day, eventually screaming, “It’s the school bus!” with delight as we walked to its door. The teachers even sent a note home about how great she does with the bus. She doesn’t even do that well for snack time, where things like cottage cheese and toast thwart her happiness.

After spending the weekend at home, she hesitated a little getting on the bus this morning. She quickly relaxed, and seemed happy when I picked her up this morning. I’m going to keep loading her on the bus and hoping she stays happy. She’d better stay happy, because I think she’s going to be taking the bus until she’s old enough to drive.