My Little Transit Riders

Don't know if he just got lucky or if he really knows this, but as we were taking the bus from our house to the Penn museum yesterday morning, Aaron asked me, "Is this the 42 bus?" To which I replied, "yes, it is." And, then, a split-second later, as we crossed through an intersection, he asked, "Was that 43rd Street?" To which I replied, bemusedly, "yes, it was."

Meanwhile, Jada chilled in the seat next to him, looked out the window, recognized that we had taken this bus before, and began orienting Aaron as to how exactly we get from our house to their grandparents' house in California (since I have taken her out there twice in a row now, but the next time we go Aaron is coming with us): bus, train, plane, plane, car.

My little transit riders, getting comfortable with getting around without a car. Given how much insurance is once you add a teenager, and how much anxiety parents have over their new drivers getting into a wreck, I could sure live with them postponing their interest in getting their license.