The Boy, The Bus, The Backpack

Thursday was the boy's school Easter Party/egg hunt. He was only at school for 90 minutes, yet he insisted on taking his backpack, despite having only a single sheet of paper that needed to be turned in. The eggs and his basket had been taken to school a couple of days earlier, so I placed him on the bus with his backpack. When I picked him up from the sitter's that evening, he said, "let me get my stuff, disappeared and reappeared with his basket of candy. "Where's your backpack?" "I left it on the bus, besides I didn't need it." After several sessions of intense questioning, I determined that he left the backpack on the bus when he got off AT school. It never occurred to him to tell anyone he left it on the bus. It wasn't on the seat where he left it when he got back on the bus, but he never asked the driver. Great.




Last night: "Pack your karate bag." "Can't it wait until in the morning?" "No, we'll be running around and forget it." "Okay." Packs his gym bag. Leaves in bedroom. "Don't you think you should set it on the couch." "No, I'll remember it."




This morning: "Where's your karate bag?" Looks frantically around the living room. "I can't find it? What happened to it?" "Don't know, you packed it last night." "Last time I saw it, It was right here." Points to the couch. "YOU PACKED IT last night." Said slowly. "No, it was.... oh yeah" Runs into room and comes out with the bag, packed but unzipped.
A few minutes later after zipping bag: "Time to go." He hops off the sofa and disappears. I fill the cats' water bowl and look for him. "Where are you?" He comes out of his room looking frantically around the living room. "Where's my back pack?"

Fortunately, the bus driver had the back pack. And he didn't even thank him for finding and rescuing it.

An Update

The boy’s afterschool program doesn’t meet on Fridays.  He rides the bus to Mom’s.  I was off work early Friday and beat him home.  When he got off the bus he was happy and throwing something in the air and catching it. When he came in he had a good report on his school behavior.  He also had a cup of unopened applesauce.  His friend on the bus gave it to him he said.  Later mom called.  There was a strange can of spaghetti sitting on her carport.   It was the boy’s.  The mysterious friend again who gives pasta and applesauce at work.  Yesterday, the bus driver spoke with the boy after he boarded but before he could sit down.  I asked about it last night.  His “sort of” friend Joseph had told some kind of lie about him.  The boy was saying my poor, put upon house guest was threatening him.  When I questioned him further, I was accused of calling the boy a liar.  I retrieved the notebook we do his spelling and math practice in and he questioned me.  I told him I was writing a note to the bus driver to let him get off at the sitter’s Thursday, since they only had a hour and a half of school.  When I folded up the note and put it with my stuff he became concerned.  He insisted he could give it to the driver.  “No, the rules say I have to give him the written permission.”  This morning when I stood by him he again tried to get the note to give the driver.  When I spoke with the driver I found that my poor innocent boy was threatening to take food from Joseph.  Who do I believe, my poor, poor, well-behaved child with the mysterious toy and food items, or the strange little boy I’ve never met?

The genius who always does as he's told who he lives with me broke my bird cage. I had a spare, but it's small and doesn't have much in the way of perches or swings. I did manage to rescue the two birds before the cats did. I managed to rig the cage and get them in long enough to clean the spare and transfer them over. I had some field work to do on Monday, so I put a request out on Facebook asking my friends about secondhand and salvage stores that might carry a cage. I had checked both local papers, and an online classified as well as Ebay and some online stores. I found a couple of cheap used ones, but not close. The price was right even with the drive, but it would be Friday before I could do that. I hated to leave them in that little cage that long. Incidentally if anyone ever tells you a cockatiel is harmless little songbird, I have some bloody bites on my hands to prove them wrong. My facebook connection resulted in my cousin setting me up with a cage from my aunt. I was actually able to walk to get it. It wasn't much bigger than my spare, but the space was better and the cage was arranged better for feeding and changing the paper.




He obeys so well. He's scared of bees, and usually runs from them. Today while weedeating, I see him running and swatting. When I investigate I find out he's chasing the bumblebees. I tell him to stop before he gets stung. Five minutes later, he's doing it again. I tell him to stop again. Later when I send him outside to give myself a time out over the cage, i see him doing it again. I'm a bit angry so I decide to leave him alone. I figure if he catches one, he'll figure out why they don't make good pets. Then when we walk out to get the new cage, it's twilight, the time of day not the sparkly vampire movie, and he takes off running across the the plowed field. He falls. I tell him not to run in the dark. He runs off again and falls. I ask if he broke anything. "No, I landed on my butt, but I hit my head." "Well at least it wasn't anything you use."