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Carla Saulter |
It seems that Bus Nerd and I have managed to create a baby who really appreciates public transportation. (Go figure.) At eight months and some change, Chicklet started saying “bus” (sadly it was her second word—her first was “kitty”) and has been saying it every time she sees or hears a bus ever since. (Given the location of our home and our preferred mode of transportation, this is pretty much constantly.) And she loves riding buses as much as she loves talking about them. Sometimes, for fun, we hop on whatever’s coming and just hang out for a couple of stops.
The thing is, despite occasional hassles, like trying to bring home flowers from the Market on a crowded 27 while managing an overstuffed shopping bag and Little Miss Grabby Hands, I love riding with her, too. Some reasons why:
• I get to be close to her. Car-driving moms have to strap their kids into car seats, which must be in the back seat, facing backwards. That means they can’t even see their babies while they travel—let alone touch or play with them. Chicklet, on the other hand, is in her carrier, strapped to me. Instead of yelling behind me to make sure she’s OK, I get to watch her face as she learns about the world.
• When I’m with her, I feel a deeper compassion for all of my fellow riders—even those who try my nerves. Each one of them was once somebody’s baby.
• People say we look alike. They get specific and compare our mouths, foreheads, and skin. Though I don’t see much of a resemblance, I never get tired of hearing this.
• I am teaching her, without saying a word, many of the values I want to impart. A few that come to mind: tolerance, equality, environmental stewardship, regular exercise, resourcefulness, frugality.
• She thinks the lift is cool. And you know what? It is.
• When we’re running to catch a bus, and I turn on a little speed, she tosses her head back and laughs, a deep belly laugh of pure joy. It is so contagious that—even if we miss the bus—I can’t help laughing, too.
• She sees everyone as a potential friend, flirting and “talking” with little old ladies and drag queens equally. She wriggles and squeals with delight when “big kids” get on, and performs all her best tricks to impress the homeless man across the aisle. As far as Chicklet is concerned, if you’re a human (or canine or feline, for that matter), you’re all right with her.
There hasn’t been a moment I’ve regretted my decision to remain car-free as a parent. Of course, so far, I haven’t had to explain the meaning of the words those big kids she so adores are saying—or dealt with a bus-based toddler tantrum. We’ll take it one ride at a time. |
