A photo essay

From 3:45 until about 4, my son must be on the window bench (and the window and screen must be open) so he can watch the school buses come by, stop in front of our house and spew out half a dozen kids.

I'm worried he's going to end up the neighborhood crazy man who stands by the window with a notepad and pen in hand, writing down the goings on on the street and calling the police every half an hour to report a suspicious looking cat.


Is that a diesel engine I hear?


Buh! Buh!


No more bus?


But are you SURE?


I'll keep watch just in case.


Longing to see the buses...