“The Claw”

The doors opened and big brother hurried on to the bus.  Little brother turned for one last embrace from mom, which is not uncommon.  It then turned from an embrace to a clinch.  He then became a preschool cocklebur with all of his little spins buried in the folds of his mother’s clothing.  With great effort she slowly pealed him off.  You could almost hear a sound as if Velcro was being parted.  She dangled him at arm’s length making sure he could not make contact with her and reattach himself in any way.  She placed him as far up the bus steps as her arms would allow.  Then the bus driver’s arm reached out, like the claw on the machine at the county fair.  Grab and miss, moving target, an adjustment, another grab and this time there is contact.  The claw closed its fingers on the backpack and then unceremoniously lifts the preschooler into the air.  With little feet dangling he is deposited in the aisle to find a place to be seated.  The door closes, the bus moves toward the games of skill and chance, which wait at the next stop.