So today we went to the dentist. I just was there yesterday having a filling replaced, and today we went back so that Barak and Iyyar could get checkups. It was quite the excursion: I put Marika in the snugli (oh how she loves the snugli) and Avtalyon in the umbrella stroller, and picked up Iyyar at school; then off to get Barak at his school, and then on the bus to the dentist. The dentist is in the same building as my office, so before our appointment we went and visited some of my coworkers, who hear about the kids a lot but obviously don't really see them. Then to the dentist, where the kids were phenomenally well behaved ("Are they always this good?"), to Whole Foods to get Iyyar's rice milk cheese and Barak's Shabbos yogurts (the good behavior began to erode very slightly in the face of all those bright lights and colors and yummy-looking food), and back to the bus.
The bus we boarded on the way back was one of the newer ones with the flip-up seats to make space for wheelchairs. Since we got on at the first stop, it was completely empty. I considered flipping up seats to make room for the stroller, but then decided not to; instead, I sat on the flip-up row with Iyyar next to me, left Avtalyon in the stroller, which I held, and had Barak on the seats perpendicular to us. That meant that the stroller was more or less out of the way, and left three more handicapped seats across the aisle. The last time we took a bus, this past Sunday, Barak had asked me about the wheelchairs on the seats, and I'd told him that if someone got on the bus who was old or had trouble walking, or if a lady got on with a baby, you should get up and let them have your seats.
When we got on the bus was empty, but right before it pulled out an older lady with a cane got on. Barak leaned over to me, looking concerned, and stage-whispered with great urgency, "Imma! Should we get up? It's an old lady and she needs this seat!" I told him that it was OK, because there were still empty seats right next to her and she could sit there; if another old lady got on, we'd move.
If in ten years, when he's riding the buses on his own, he's the kid who gets up to give other people a seat, I'll be so proud and happy I'll probably cry.
2 comments:
Except you won't at first even know about it, because he'll be too modest to tell you and you won't be on the bus (if he's "riding alone." But then you'll ride the bus and sit next to an old lady, who will tell you about "this fine young gentleman who gave up his seat for her" and you'll slowly realize it is, indeed, your son.
Hurrah!
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