The Driveway is NOT a playground. And oh, there’s this thing called a Queue!

A good four times a week, I take a shuttle out to the train station to get to French class and Driving class. The shuttle, for as long as I’ve been taking it, has never been full. There are always seats available for everyone. Besides, the shuttle arrives like clockwork. I don’t even think our trains are that on time.

Which is why I don’t understand why people refuse to queue up for the shuttle.

Most of the time, I am the earliest to reach the driveway where the bus stops, but I usually end up being one of the last to get on. And yes, I’ve already said there are seats for everyone, so there’s no need for me to throw a hissy fit, right?

Problem is, there is this thing called COURTESY that does not exist in quite a few of these commuters, and that totally pisses me off.

Today, I was the second to arrive at the driveway. A well-dressed lady stood in line, poised for pole position. I elected to sit at the bench which already meant that I was resigned to get on last. A gentlemen joined her shortly, and stood behind her.

THEN.

A young lady – about 18? 19? 243? Who cares? – stomped her way to the front of the line, in front of the first lady in the line.

Sh*t Phone Camera. Perfect for Spy Games. Even then, I make it look artistic.

Outrage. OUT. RAGE. No one said a word, though my eyes almost popped out and the two in line shot her a look. Of course, she was oblivious to all our hints of displeasure because she’d conveniently plugged in and zoned out.

Then, a recalcitrant middle-aged woman strutted over by the side. Stops. But I was already wary. This one. She is The Interceptor.

And when the bus arrived, true enough, she managed to edge out all of us with her massive frame and hop right on after Young Rude Girl.

But we didn’t get on right after. Because The Right of Way Mother and her Driveway Son were next in line by default. Because she is a motherrr, and he is but a cute lil 3? 4? 5-year-old?

Let me expound on RoW Mother and Driveway Son. The shuttle I take, technically makes only one stop – at the train station. But the drivers are nice enough to make an extra stop for the pair – at his preschool, I’d imagine – because it’s along the way. I think that’s fantastic. Understandably,  the pair should sit right in front of the bus so as to make a quick exit when they arrive at their destination. All good.

What is downright wrong, is the manner in which she brings her son to the front of the line, and conveniently marches right up after him without so much as a nod of thanks to the people behind her. On fact, on many occasions, her tot doesn’t even require her ‘Hurry, hurry! Go, go!’ prompt anymore. He just cuts right in and plonks himself down. Even on the occasions when there are elderly people in the line.

Is it his fault? Probably not. RoW Mom just expects people to give her son and herself priority because because.

Seriously though people, it’s a privilege, not a right. Everyone is just too polite and too bleary-eyed in the morning to tell you guys off.

So wait, why do I call the boy Driveway Son? Oh, this is so dumb it hurts.

The shuttle stop is a roundabout that services not only the bus, but also open traffic. When Mom leads Son down to the shuttle stop, the lil’ one, bursting with energy, will run right to the driveway and play there.

Yes.

Run. To the Driveway. To Play.

And yes. Mom is present.

I don’t know about you guys, but when I’m doing something dumb and irresponsible and potentially life-threatening as a child (i.e. playing with fire – yes, literally.), my mother wasn’t around to witness it. And if she were around, she’d probably burn me first to give me a lesson I’ll never forget.

This Mom. No. She lets her tiny tot run right into the driveway, frolicking, skipping, hopping, pulling out plants on the landscape features in the middle of the roundabout. When a car turns in, she feebly calls out to him, ‘Dear, come back already.’

Does he run back to the pavement with enthusiasm, fear in his heart?

No.

Because Mom was in no way firm. Not with her choice of words, not with her tone.

In fact… he TAKES HIS TIME to take step… by step… one hop… then another… Sometimes he even turns to give the shuttle bus/car a ‘scary face’. I’m assuming he is showing his might and the animalistic Conan prowess. And the whole time, Mom is watching.

Yep.

Her tiny little son who cannot be properly seen by drivers is playing with vehicles that can literally crush him. And Mom is there. Watching. Allowing it to happen. Yippee-doo-da.

And again, I don’t blame him (yet). I don’t even bother making a face. Because RoW Mom is obviously an adult, and if her parenting book of rules allows for the possibility of her son getting into serious trouble, who am I, a non-mom to disagree?

What prompts me to write this angry post is that IF and WHEN an accident (Touch wood, of course. I want to get to my classes on time. Yea, yea, crucify me.) happens, RoW Mom will probably be the first to point her finger at the drivers for not being careful, for not looking out for her child. Natural reaction, I agree. But what are you doing to prevent it? What are you doing to educate your child about respecting other people? Respecting the dangers that roads bring?

Sure, you want to let your kids run free? I’m all for that – in fact, there are a few very safe grass patches right next to the shuttle stop, a few friendly neighbours even walk their lovely pooches there in the morning. Go there. It’s safe.

Roads are NOT playgrounds!

Not even if you’re cute.

Parents who let their kids play in the common driveway – what are you thinking?!

Oh wait.

You are NOT thinking.

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