To be fair, that mini-bus, named Half-pint, was pretty cool. It zoomed around in front of the kids, blinking its large eyes that filled the spot where the windshield would have been and answering questions that the bus driver asked it.

At least Sam wasn't the kid who was loudly informing all the other kids that "Half-pint's a fake. Look, there's somebody out in the hallway who's making it talk and move!" And then he sang: "Half-pint's a fa-ake! Half-pint's a fa-ake!"

Sam's definitely not going to be allowed to play with him. *smile*

And she wasn't the kid who wasn't allowed to go sit with the others because her mommy and daddy wouldn't put her down.

I wish I were kidding about this one, but I'm not.

There was one really cute little blonde girl who politely said, "Mommy, may I go sit with the other kids up front?" while we were in the auditorium learning about bus safety form Half-pint, and her mom said, "No, you'll stay with us."

She wasn't allowed to sit with the other kids during storytime in the classroom, either. When the teacher -- whose name is Mrs. Bangert, by the way, which Sam just can't remember -- said, "OK, let's have all the boys and girls sit up front on the carpet for a story, and moms and dads, you may sit in the back of the room," that girl's mom pulled out a kindergarten-size chair and pointed to it.

"You sit here," she told her.

And Sam wasn't the kid who had the meltdown about three-quarters of the way through the session. That boy clutched his mom's hand, trying to drag her out of the room. "Mo-oo-om, let's GO!" he said, throwing his body around in mock agony when she quietly told him that they were staying. His mom took him on a trip to see the hallway until he settled down.

Sam was, however, the only kid to come running back to me during the bus-safety talk (but she just wanted to make sure I had seen the amazing, awe-inspiring Half-pint).

She was also the first one to pop up out of her seat on the bus after our 20-minute ride (all over back roads that I swear go only uphill or downhill, triggering my easily provoked motion sickness) and bop back the aisle to me. That made the bus driver say gently, "There should be no one walking around right now because I did not say it was safe yet."

I think my proudest moment came just after storytime, when the teacher told the kids to come up to her and get a page to color. "Then you can sit down at any table you'd like and color it, but you have to share the crayons with your new friends," Mrs. Bangert said.

Sam was the first one in line (and she didn't shove anybody to get there, thank goodness). She grabbed her paper, and as she turned, I was expecting her to come sit beside me because there were two open chairs next to me.

Nope. My independent girl walked right over to an unoccupied table, sat down and grabbed a crayon from the box. She didn't even look around for me. She didn't need Mrs. Bangert to repeat the directions. She just did it.

I'm getting a little teary-eyed now just remembering it. Maybe my baby girl really will be able to handle the big-kid world of school.

And maybe she -- and I -- will be just fine.