Middle School
I sent this beautiful person off to middle school for the first time this week. She wasn't wearing the war paint when I hustled her onto the wrong bus at 7 am. She was dressed in a pair of orange shorts and a t-shirt, an outfit she hadn't agonized over very much, by the looks of it. She was nonchalant and relaxed, but as I watched the wrong bus carry her away into the darkness of the early morning, my insides seized up unexpectedly and I had the unnerving desire to chase after the bus screaming, "Come back, sweet girl!!" What the hell happened? The overwhelming sense of worry that overtook me that morning was completely unexpected. After realizing that the number on the bus that my daughter was riding was NOT the number of the bus she was supposed to be riding, I hurried home and called our public school transportation office. The rather bored secretary confirmed that Emma would arrive at her own school after the high school kids ...