I am jealous of a bus driver.
Every day, Alexis spends 45 minutes riding a bus to and then again from school. Thanks to an amazing series of coincidences, she's the only kid on that bus. Meaning, she has a school bus to herself. Twice a day. For 45 minutes each time.
Of course, since she's a kindergartener, she hasn't quite reached that emo level of kidness that would dictate that she hide in the back of the bus and pretend the driver isn't there. Instead, she sits in the front row and chats with the bus driver the entire time.
(For the record, we hit the bus driver lottery and have the most perfect for us bus driver possible. Just sayin'.)
Right up until this month, *I* was the driver that Alexis spent her to and from school time chatting with.
It took a while to teach the kid that the words "How was school today?" cannot be met with "Fine." An explanation is required, she has to discuss something she liked and something she didn't like, and she generally is under an obligation to actually explain some things that she learned that day. We had that routine down. Every day the conversation would start slow, but then Alexis would spend the rest of the drive telling me all sorts of fantastic things. I knew which kids were constantly getting in trouble. I knew which teachers didn't know how to put their cell phones away. I even knew which kids ate what for lunch.
I have Alexis trained.
And now she is trained to tell the bus driver about her day. By the time she gets home, she's done reliving her day and ready to tackle new topics for the night. She hasn't run out of words by any means (if you're ever finding yourself short on words, I bet it's because she STOLE THEM ALL). She has just run out of words about school.
I manage to find out what she is learning, but it's like pulling teeth.
Except for this little ditty. She was EXTREMELY willing to tell me all about the kindergarten cheer she learned.
Obviously, our tuition money is doing magical things.