September 8: My Son on the Bus, All Mythed Up

Well, my son fairly floated onto the school bus for his first day of school.  When he saw the bus at the end of the street, he started jumping like an over-wound toy.  He kept jumping until the bus stopped in front of our house.  Then, he did what he's been wanting to do since he found out he was going to be riding on a bus:  he climbed the steps, got strapped into his seat, started waving goodbye, and disappeared around the corner.  I couldn't get over how small he looked in that big, yellow monster.

When I got to work, I had a few things I needed to accomplish for my day.  In between registering patients and answering phones and putting together medical charts, I needed to make up a quiz for my mythology class (done), figure out my lesson plan for mythology (done), go over some poems for the literary magazine I'm helping to edit (done), and type in a blog post (getting done now).  I'm still not completely comfortable with the material for my mythology class, but I have a plan in place now.  Therefore, I'm a little more at ease.

Just got a phone call from my wife.  My son survived his first day of school without being reduced to a quivering, fetal ball of tears.  My wife asked him if he ate his breakfast.  He held up his fingers and said he drank two milks.  "There weren't any notes in his backpack telling us he's kicked out of the program," my wife said.  "That's a good sign."

Saint Marty needs to get his Greek mojo flowing this afternoon.

Does this kid look old enough for school?