The long awaited phone call finally came at about 4 pm today.
It was the school bus driver. “I need you to be out in the driveway when the bus pulls up,” she said. “He’s naked.”
I don’t think I even blinked when she made this announcement. In fact, I couldn’t have been more blasé than if she were yet another telemarketer offering to refinance my house. The only thing that surprised me was that it took the Bear this long to do it.
Almost every day he steps off the bus in his bare feet. A couple of times he was bare-chested. Once, he kept his socks and shoes on, but still managed to take off his shorts.
Around the house, it’s an ongoing battle to keep clothes on him. I’m desperately worried that when he reaches adulthood, he’s going to make the Guinness Book of World Records—for the most arrests for indecent exposure. “He’d go naked 24/7 if he could,” is a favorite catch phrase of mine.
I told Mr. Lucky to come with me. He was playing a game on the computer, and was two cannon blasts away from sinking a Spanish galleon. My bad timing may have cost him four million doubloons and a knighthood from Queen Elizabeth I. But I needed backup in case the Bear slipped my grip—which he’s done many a time—and ran streaking down the street.
The bus pulled up and I was invited to board. Baby Bear danced in the aisle as if The Price is Right announcer had just called him to come on down. All his clothes were scattered on the floor beneath several seats, and I collected them all and dressed him in the middle of the bus, while the driver told Mr. Lucky, “She’s always saying he’s going to come home naked someday!”
Fortunately there weren’t too many kids left on the bus, maybe four or five, all special needs children. One of them would have been rolling in the aisle with laughter if he hadn’t been securely strapped in his seat. I couldn’t blame him. Even I was more amused than horrified, which was out of character for me. Maybe it’s the full moon.
But I hope it doesn’t happen again. (The public nudity, not the full moon.)