The emotional build-up has lasted
months.
Every. single. time. we have seen a bus, G has exclaimed: "Da Buhz! Das my buhz?" Or the always-popular claiming statement: "Das MY buhz!"
We have discussed over & over & over again how Joseph takes his bus to school. Over & over & over.
So today was a huge day. This was the start of his new schedule - special preschool in the morning, followed by a BUS taking him to his regular day care, where I would later pick him up. We reviewed this huge change in routine many times so G would be as prepared as possible. I made him pictures that showed each step in order. My concern was that - given the huge focus on the *bus* part of the day, that G would be unpleasantly surprised by the other parts of the day, like the *Mama leaves* part. No matter how many times we reviewed the different parts, the only part that got any attention was, yes, the bus.
We've been doing a countdown of days until "New school AND you ride the bus."
This morning when G woke up and asked for "my buhz?" I finally got to say: "Yes! Today you will go to your new school and ride your bus!"
Drop-off at the new school went ok. G was definitely hesitant, watching everything. I took a photo with the drop-off buses since I wouldn't get a photo with the Real Event.
You can tell he was nervous. He held tight to my hand. But when the teacher told him to "hold hands with Caden," he did - even though I had just seen Caden picking his nose moments earlier. ugh.
Then, as I turned to leave, the teacher mentioned: "Oh. The bus company said that instead of sending a bus for G, they might send a Suburban."
Oh my stinkin word.
I warned her that would be an issue, but... the school bell was about to ring, the kids were marching in, and... I left him.
Apparently, it did not go well. G was VERY upset. The teachers
harnessed him in to keep him in the vehicle. Poor little dude. He didn't understand. His mama had promised him a bus. He'd been looking forward to a bus. And - I found out later - not only was it
not a bus, but it was
not a Suburban - it was a white van. As in - the same kind of vehicle that always used to take him back to the orphanage after our visits together. Can you imagine? I feel sick thinking about it.
The teachers did send him home with picture:
Little late with that one.
He was clingy tonight, but still isn't communicative enough for us to discuss what happened. I talked to him, but don't know how much he comprehended. I do know he was exhausted and fell asleep right away.
So that was our disaster for today. I do feel bad just posting that much when I have huge praises I could be posting.... G was accepted into special preschool! He'll get speech therapy, occupational therapy, and more! We have transportation to get him to day care! He's safe & growing! We'll survive the Bus Incident. Good things are happening. God is good.
But imagine for a moment that you somehow discovered one of these starving African children dying on your front doorstep the very next morning as you left for church. Would you not stop everything, pick up the child, and rush her to the emergency room, offering to pay whatever it might cost to save her life? You would almost certainly respond with urgency as one human being to another, and that faraway famine you had read about the night before would very suddenly become intensely personal. You see, our problem is that the plight of suffering children in a far-off land simply hasn't gotten personal for us. We may hear about them with sorrow, but we haven't really been able to look at them as if they were our own children. If we could, then we would surely grieve more deeply in our spirits. We would weep for their parents, and we would respond with far greater urgency."
