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Another one rides the bus

2010 November 18
by distracted daddy

(It’s Thursday, that means there’s another Distracted Daddy post over at Sweetmama. It’s about how cute my daughter is. There’s photographic evidence below.)

Baby Picking Flowers

One afternoon, many months ago, during my manternity leave, I was returning home from a visit to the office with my daughter. It was a rather unsuccessful visit.

The office visit ran into naptime, my daughter was teething, and fussy. Very fussy.

Without her nap she was more baby Hulk than baby Bruce Banner: red-faced, angry, and groaning like Lou Ferrigno.

Foolishly, I didn’t take the car to work. I took the bus.

Taking public transit is never ideal. It’s a compromise, you accept being cattled around the city because it’s cheaper than maintaining a car, or greener, or maybe you have an affinity for strangers and strange smells.

So there I was with my daughter and her stroller – her SUV-sized stroller – waiting for the bus to bring us to naptime.

When the bus pulled up, I silently thanked myself that it wasn’t rush hour and that the bus would be empty – allowing for a leisurely ride home as our stroller took up three-quarters of the aisle.

The bus wasn’t empty.

It was full. It was full on a random Thursday afternoon.

In one quick lift, I forced the stroller onto the bus and pushed it within the throngs of unwashed masses. Their looks let me know that the stroller was not welcome.

Then my daughter began to cry.

Her wails attracted the attention of everyone on the bus. Some shot glares my way. Some offered sympathetic glances. And some offered advice.

There was a little old lady crushed against me within the bus. She stared intently at my crying daughter. Then looked at me.

“Maybe she wants her bottle,” the old lady said.

“Maybe she doesn’t want advice from an old lady,” I said, in my head, to myself.

Offering a bottle was my first instinct. My second was a soother. The bottle was refused; the soother was absent from my diaper bag.

My daughter wanted her nap. She wanted it 45 minutes ago. She was on a strict schedule. Interrupting that schedule was like opening the Ark of the Covenant in the finale of the first Indiana Jones movie. We were past the point of no return.

The stops seemed further apart with every fuss and wail. But eventually our stop arrived.

I exited the bus but there was no relief. My daughter was still crying. I pushed the stroller home as fast as I could. Hoping she’d fall into her nap.

She was quickly placed in her crib.

She never napped.

3 Responses leave one →
  1. May 9, 2013

    I’d personally love to retire in San Raphael, France on the Mediterranean Sea. It is so gorgeous! I’d also perform on learning French since incredibly few folks there speak English.

  2. May 30, 2013

    Stephen: I am interested in your Letters in the Mail subscription. I am a high faculty English teacher, and i imagined this could possibly be a good way for getting my students to write responding towards the letters. Nevertheless, I’ve to be certain that the topics from the letters are going to be appropriate for my students 9, 10, and 11th graders. Will you please comment on what the topics is going to be in general? Thank you.

  3. June 1, 2013

    I’d rather have Lin Dans WC-final T-shirt!!!

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