The children gather in little clumps sometimes kicking a small stone in a scaled down soccer game or three or four stand in a little knot listening to one or another of their group share a tale that may be true or it may be tall. These days many women work and a by-product of this arrangement is that husbands have a restructured arrangement compared with their fathers. In our neighborhood a number of fathers wait with their children for the bus. On any morning you may see Orlando with Chris, then later Michael with his two young sons, Sean comes with Cassidy and Avalon, and Jim waits with James. Often Michael will toss the football to the little group of children and Jim will share a word with Sean. In the afternoon Mark will be around for Kevin and Ryan and Peter will most likely be there for Michael and Nicholas. I know that each father makes a special effort to rearrange a work schedule to fit in this fifteen minutes. I know it is a challenge and there are other things these men can be doing. Yet this is the most important job for them; waiting at the bus stop with a child. It is a very special thing. It is something that the children take for granted. The fathers in our little neighborhood share a small pleasure that mothers mostly knew in this waiting with a child. It is profoundly moving to see this gift of time given by these men. It’s a gift these children never put on a list. The bus comes to Muroney and Route 340. The children are exhorted not to run and the children do slow down but they don’t look back as the Dads call out “Have a good day!” and you know what? I bet the children do.