The Boy on the Bus

Kindergarten is a bit of a black box for parents – the child goes in, the child comes out and you have NO idea what happens in the 7 hours in-between.  You search desperately for clues, “You didn’t eat your apple – were you busy talking to your friends at lunch today?” or they bring home obscure art work with only one repetitively familiar phrase on all of them – TOBY – “What’s this a picture of Toby, is this something you’re learning about this week?”  The more you ask, the curter the answer and the more deadpan the stare.

I have learned, over the course of this year, the difficult task of patience.  I wait for the mood to hit and casually lure details out of him when the picking is ripe.

The other day I managed to hit a JACKPOT with the bus.

The hour long bus ride that we so cruelly subject him to on Monday, Wednesdays and Thursdays is even MORE enigmatic than the mundane routine of kindergarten in which they do “nothing” every day.  (Or so it seems…)

Here’s what I know about the bus:

-       It’s yellow

-       He sits by himself

-       It is a medium, sometimes long ride

-       He hates it

The guilt I have suffered over this bus ride could move mountains.

At the beginning of the year I had meetings with the teachers, BEGGING them to ensure that they sat someone beside him.  I would spend hours at night coaching him on how to make friends on the bus, how to ask someone to sit beside him, what to say to make friends and games he could play by himself to pass the time.  Despite it all, Toby hates the bus. 

So imagine my surprise last week when he raced in the door from his ride home and announced that he had to make a card for his friend “Josh” from the bus. 

I raced downstairs behind him, hot on his heels, my casual attempt at garnering information flying out the window.

I asked excitedly who Josh was.

“Just some boy on the bus.”  Toby replied casually as he got his markers and paper out.

“Is he in kindergarten?”

“Nope”

“How old is he?”

“I don’ know…maybe 7 or 8?” 

(FYI that means NOTHING. Toby once took a liking to my mom’s friend Vivien and later confessed that he thought she was probably 4 or 5 years old. He is RUBBISH at age prediction…)

“Does he sit with you on the bus?”  I asked with baited breath.

“Oh, no.  He sits with the big kids.”

I was getting nowhere.

“But he told you it’s his birthday tomorrow?”

“Well…” Toby replied, already focusing on his artwork, “I just heard him telling someone that it’s his birthday either THIS Wednesday or NEXT Wednesday I’m not really sure.  So I’m making him a card.”

All of a sudden the animalistic parental protection alarms started sounding in my head.  An OLDER kid who doesn’t even seem to ACKNOWLEGE Toby who MAY or may not have a birthday tomorrow or the next week?  And Toby was diligently making him a card?  As thoughtful as it seemed I just knew that the error factor and potential for disappointment or even being made fun of was too high for my comfort zone.

I went upstairs to think it out and Toby arrived TWENTY MINUTES LATER with a birthday card that broke my heart.  Toby has only ever spent that long on a card for one of his beloved Grandmas’ and that was OK because I KNEW it would be well received with the appropriate laudations and lavish gratitude’s it was deserving of.  In Toby’s attempts to make this card special he had used ALL of his markers AND his scissors.  The results was a misshapen mangled, colour jumbled MESS of a piece of foolscap with the familiar phrase TOBY scrawled across it.

OH SHIT.

The next morning (Wednesday, either the day of Josh’s birthday or the week BEFORE this said Josh’s birthday) it was raining.  We ran into the logistical problem of how to pack this card appropriately.  I tried to pack it in to the main section of Toby’s backpack but Toby is a rule follower and apparently you are not allowed to open your backpack on the bus (I am now up to 5 things I know about the bus…) so he wanted to put it in the side pocket.  The problem was that it was RAINING and I cringed at the thought of what the rain would do to this already terrible piece of lovingly made artwork.  I was TEMPTED to put a note in his book for his kindergarten teachers explaining this conundrum but decided against it; this was one scenario Toby would have to figure out on his own.  (While I secretly hoped he wouldn’t be able to deliver his card to this older Josh fellow).

The next morning I rushed home from work eager to hear how the card exchange had gone.  Had he given Josh his card?

“Yes.” Toby said matter of factly, “But I was wrong.  It wasn’t Josh’s birthday today.  His birthday is next week.”

“OH, I replied” as best I could without bursting into tear for the little guy, “That’s too bad.  Did Josh like the card anyways?”

“I don’t know.” Toby said.  “But I gave it to him anyways.”

Even as I write this, the scenario breaks my heart.  I have no idea who this Josh guy is nor whether he was kind to Toby when he was presented with this heartfelt week-early birthday card.  I can only hope that he made Toby feel good about the efforts he put into it and that Toby isn’t forever scarred from the experience.  I suspect this is just the first of many experience Toby will have on the bus, at school, and in life where I am left out of the details and can only hope as a bystander that the world treats him fairly.

In the meantime, I am glad to hear that SOMEONE on the bus has a name.  And I take solace in the fact that one day Mia will also be on his bus and he will at least have a little sister to sit beside.  And I know EXACTLY how Mia will react to any unappreciative bus bullies: she’ll kick their ass.