Dualism and the Happy Yellow Bus

When I was in high school, my parents would get glowing reports from my teachers about what a delight I was to have in class. Even when my grades weren't great, they apparently found me extremely pleasant, and a joy to have around. This confounded my parents.

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Daniel gets rave reviews from his teachers, and people outside of the home.

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This morning, Daniel was particularly ornery. It's redundant to say that he had an ornery morning, but this one was special - pretty-much from the get-go. Of course, I'm ornery too, so there's no intimidation taking place. Plus I have better lungs, and have had many more years to master the art of ornerity, if you will.

We were waiting for the bus in the driveway, and along came his bus, and his bus driver - a delightful lady with wild, Celtic, crazy red hair and freckles and blue eyes and always a flash of cheer as she pulls up and again when she drives away. She gives Daniel the all-important "thumbs-up" - in February, it is with gloves on; the local, school-bus-driver's equivalent of a "green-light"; an indication that the driver has thoroughly surveyed the trajectory of our extremely quiet little street on what was recently an apple orchard, and that she has deemed the twenty feet of crossing safe for young Daniel en route to board the bus, which waits on the other side of the street, which is pretty much the "same" side of the street. [Ian's bus driver has a similar, solemn ritual half an hour later each day.]

So Sunshine-on-Wheels gives the thumbs up, and Daniel crosses, and he's off among friendly people for the next several hours. And when the bus pulled up this morning, Daniel slowly, again almost ritually, stretched out his lower jaw, dropping his lower lip and exposing his darling little picket-fence of freestanding teeth, including the new vacancy created where his lower-left front tooth once was. Slow, attentive unveiling of a little-toothy little-smile, and a very intense one.

Then he slowly turned back toward me, and, as if exactly in keeping with the pace of his turn from Raggedy-Ann-Behind-the-Wheel to Abu Ornery Ibn Ornery bin Ornery - pseudo-Arabic for the ornery-father-of-the-ornery-son-yes-the-ornery-son - as he turns away from the light and toward the gloom of Snark-o-Pop, he very, very gradually drops the smile to a completely deadpan stare, however brief. Then he quickly turned back toward She-Shine, marched triumphantly across the road under the protection of the Gloved Thumb of Approval, and climbed slowly, confidently up the big stairs of the big bus, with his little legs, Sunshine meeting Sunshine, and off in to the Day. Out of hurry-up-and-get-dressed, into the gaiety and warmth of Valentines Day.

(February 14, 2012)