riding the bus

I love riding the bus in this town.  The riders are a mixture of tourists and people who live here, young and old.

Yesterday a little girl baby was on the bus in a bad mood.  Her mom didn't scold or seem concerned. She smoothed back her bangs and blew on her forehead.  She lifted up her hair and blew on the back of the child's neck.   She dug around in a bag and found a bottle of water and the kid drank.   Mom knew what would help.

These two got on with their mother who sat in a seat across from them.  He had an ipod in his pocket and they shared the ear buds.

And she kept talking and talking and gesturing, and he looked like Tim--the shape of him, the hair cut, the patience with the sister's chipper chatter.

At one point, after she plucked the ear bud from his ear and said something right into it and then sat back laughing, he put his hand over her mouth.

Oh my goodness.

It was like Tim and Julia--probably two years younger.

I was holding on to the back of the seat for balance on the fast curves, and the little girl put her head back to rest, but didn't realize it was on my hand.  I was happy to prop up her head for however far we went.

And this, I just thought was funny, the little stuffed monkey hanging from the mirror.

Hang on!  Ignore those howling brakes!

love you all, Val, aka MOM, aka GRANDMA