Wicked

I did a school run on Friday, not too many of the little darlings, I just catch the last few stragglers. When I stopped in Kingskerswel to let a couple off, (no I don't throw them out the emergency exit much as I would sometimes like to) one, aged about 12 turned and said, "You're a wicked bus driver."

For a brief moment my ego deflated faster than a balloon landing on a lighted cigarette. Here's me thinking I was the best in the bay and this little kid though I was trash. I tried to think of something nasty and cutting I could say to the little b******. Then I remembered that words do change with time and wicked doesn't mean what it meant when I was 12.

What a nice, pleasant, observant, good mannered, truthful little boy.