.......

I am absolutely mentally exhausted and emotionally drained, so I'm not sure how much I'll write.

Logan had his first day of preschool. He did great.

I, apparently though, am an idiot for not knowing there are no bus car seat laws here, and getting told by the bus driver that her paperwork states he doesn't need a safety belt.
Then him coming home with some other kids backpack.
Just ugh.
I'm so tired of this constant crap with this school and transportation department.
The school claims he left with the right backpack, so this mixup somehow occurred on the bus. Not sure how. What do they do? Throw them in a big pile? On the way there, they each held theirs in their seat!
Annoying.
I don't know.
Anyway, rather than write a long drawn out story tonight, I'm just going to hope it gets figured out tomorrow and at the end of the day I end up with my kids correct bookbag, and hopefully his art he did yesterday. He also had a change of clothes in his bag we were told to send, but I'm unclear at the moment as to whether the clothes were taken out by the teachers to go in a cubby space or something. I'll be pissed if his clothes go missing.
His name was on the inside of his bookbag, on a blue piece of cardstock, covered with packing tape.
This bag he brought home has no name anywhere.
So I don't even know who has his bag.

Annoying.
I was fine until this afternoon when I broke down and cried over the stress that has been mounting, and the thought that the other parent might think the work that got sent home was her child's, and not send it back.
I want my kids art from his first ever day of school.
I am returning the art that was in the bag we got, plus the book form, and a note to the parent saying here is your son's stuff, somehow the bags got mixed up, you must have my son's.
The teacher knows, and hopefully she can sort this out.
Otherwise I get on that bus tomorrow when he gets dropped off and I find my kid's bookbag.
Even if it means holding up traffic and pissing off the bus driver.

I'm hoping for the simpler, less aggressive outcome.

Just please God, let the bus come, I hop on, open it up, and it's got his name in it, with his stuff, and we're all good.
Please.
I think Mrs. Good is starting to think I am a major pain in the ass.
And I'm sure the transportation department thinks I'm annoying too, after my inquiry about the safety belts.