Well, nothing quite matches the feeling of approaching your child's bus to see it surrounded by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles . . . or being told over the phone that the reason why your child isn't home yet is because his bus was in an accident. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fryer . . . up until then, we'd just been mildly annoyed and worried about B not crashing through the door on time.
Fortunately, the administrative aid who we talked to followed those words with ". . . but none of the students were hurt." When I told S, she said, "So that's what all those sirens were about!" So over her objection I hopped into the car and retraced the bus route.
This is what I encountered a mere four or five blocks down our quiet residential street. Turns out a pickup truck failed to yield and got clipped by the bus. The only thing seriously hurt was a broken tail light, but since it was a school bus, they had to wait for a replacement bus and fill out lots of paperwork. By the time I picked up B, it'd been a good 50 minutes since the crash. We didn't see the replacement bus come by until an hour and fifteen minutes after its usual time.
B, for his part, said it was "exciting but then really boring." He said "you couldn't miss it" -- a loud bang, apparently.
All's well that ends well. Speaking of which, M is now smiling, laughing, eating, and drinking. Last night she consumed 10 french fries, her most substantial food since Thursday; today, she followed up with some yogurt and two mini-hamburgers. White Castles, to be specific. Hey, it's what she wanted, and the doc said to give her what she wanted . . . .