Dear Mr. Thompson,
I see your bus approaching, and my heart races. It’s time for me to share a little insight about mornings in our household.
Getting my kids ready for school has become one of the most chaotic parts of my day—something that countless parents endure daily. The pressure is overwhelming, and I often feel like I’m juggling too many tasks as just one person.
Each morning, my children fluctuate between two states: either they’re dawdling over breakfast, savoring each bite of cereal as if it were a gourmet meal, or they’re surprisingly cooperative. But even on those rare good days, there’s always the anxiety of possibly being early.
As any mom knows, even when things seem to be running smoothly, life has a knack for tossing unexpected challenges our way—whether it’s a sudden case of pink eye, forgotten homework, or the bus arriving a few minutes ahead of schedule. For me, being ahead of time is both a blessing and a source of panic as I shuffle my reluctant children around, questioning my entire existence in the process.
I can imagine other parents telling their kids, “Eat your veggies, or you’ll end up like me, missing the bus and crying on the lawn.” Trust me, it’s a nightmare scenario.
I’ve been that parent, sprinting across the yard, flailing my arms, begging you to “Please wait!” And while I should feel embarrassed, I can’t help but acknowledge that this bus-related anxiety runs in the family. My own mother was the queen of chaotic school mornings. When we missed the bus, she’d drive like a maniac behind it, honking and shouting as if pursuing a prize.
I still remember those moments, desperately wishing I could disappear into the pavement, leaving behind only my backpack and folders. The trauma lingers.
I fear I’m becoming that parent myself. I’ve already caught myself sticking my head out the door, waving my arms, mouthing “Just one more minute!” And there was that time when my dog dashed out the door, leaping onto the bus while I frantically chased after her.
I’ve even contemplated launching flares into the sky to signal, “Hold on! My daughter just had a wardrobe malfunction!”
In my pre-kid life, I was a morning rockstar—showered and dressed by 7:45 a.m., bra included. Now? A good day means I’m simply opening the front door, kissing foreheads, and shoving kids out while crossing my fingers for a miracle. I pray that no one tumbles or spills their lunchbox, because then I’d have to make a grand appearance in my old Christmas pajamas, trying to salvage my dignity (and the mess) in front of neighbors and other onlookers.
This is the ultimate parenting walk of shame.
I know you’re just doing your job, wanting to get home after a long day of wrangling kids. However, if you could keep my morning chaos in mind when you’re honking at us, I would greatly appreciate it. And if you could be extra kind to my little ones, that would mean the world to me.
I’m baring my soul to you every morning, Mr. Thompson. Please don’t think it’s weird.
Thanks for your understanding.
Summary
In this humorous letter of apology, a parent reflects on the chaos of mornings as she gets her children ready for school. She shares her own struggles with school bus anxiety, revealing the hilarious lengths she goes to in order to avoid missing the bus. The letter is a candid acknowledgment of the challenges that come with parenting, especially on hectic school mornings, while also expressing gratitude for the bus driver’s patience and understanding.