Since early September, I've commuted Monday thru Thursday to Manhattan and back. I always get to see the kids off to school, but some nights I get back so late that I don't have a chance to put them to bed. That happened the last two nights.
This morning, I didn't get out of bed till just minutes before Fiona's bus is due to arrive. Now, in her case there is a big difference between the set arrival time (8:20) and the actual time that the bus gets there. Her usual driver is notorious for always being about 17 minutes late (his record is 19). He's remarkably consistent. The problem is that on rare occasions, a substitute driver takes over his route for a day, and she's never more than a few minutes behind schedule.
Most parents hope for a punctual driver, but I'm always hoping the bus doesn't show till at least 8:35. That gives me 15 uninterrupted minutes with Fiona. Sometimes we work on self-defense moves or listen to our favorite Ben Folds Five songs, but most of the time we just chat. I was disappointed, then, to see her bus pull up at just 8:26 today. That substitute driver robbed me of ten precious minutes with my big girl.
The good news is that I'll be home in time for stories and tuck-in...that is, if this bus ever makes it out of the Lincoln Tunnel.
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