The Princess got the bus home from school alone the other day. She managed it without difficulty. And she was absolutely delighted with herself.
When I was her age, I was frankly not delighted to get the bus home from school as it was a dreary part of my routine [not so much the bus ride really but waiting forever for it to arrive]. But when I was her age there were a gang of unaccompanied children getting the bus home every day. Furthermore, on my bus route the chances of meeting alcoholics or strung out junkies was close to nil. Her bus route on the other hand does offer these options from time to time. On the other hand, people are kind and she is sensible. I asked whether anyone spoke to her. “Yes,” she said, “the bus driver asked me whether I was on my own and a nice woman talked to me when I sat down upstairs.” What you might expect really.
This daring action was inspired by Mr. Waffle who felt (correctly) that she was well able for it and I was sustained by thoughts of this woman who described her child as being “ecstatic with independence” after riding the New York subway. Well, that’s how my girl felt too though I don’t think that she’s ready to tackle the NY subway just yet.
I remember well the delight I took as a child in any small opportunity for independence, lone bus rides being best of all. I still love taking the bus.
heh, I much preferred being driven somewhere as I was bone idle as a child!
I was twelve before I went home on my own, because the trip was really complicated (bus, train, train, bus) but I well remember the feeling of accomplishment. Actually, I still feel that way at thirty-something when I manage a complicated trip on public transport or on my bike without resorting to a taxi or a lift!
Praxis, if you still love it you don’t do it often enough.
Disgruntled, aren’t all children bone idle by nature?
Lauren, that sounds quite daunting..
Am delighted to hear that 9 year olds can sometime have lives approximating those we led in the 70s. Not in the leafier quartiers of Bxls you understand but Mr Waffle is clearly a less paranoid father than some I’m not mentioning. Ahem.
Well, I am paranoid enough to make up for it. I did find it quite unnerving. But now that it’s done – I think I’d try it again. I think if the paranoid father – mentioning no names – could face doing it once, he would be over the worst. This, at least, is my experience.