If a feed pump is set to feed 250mls at a rate of 300mls per hour, why, after 50 minutes, has it only delivered 169mls?
If I have to take one child to the doctor's, why does that child immediately become the epitome of good health, and why does an entirely different child appear to be at death's door?
Why do medical devices need to alarm when they are switched on? I can see the point of alarming when there's a problem, I can see the point of alarming when they have finished the job they set out to do. But why do they need to alarm when you turn them on, when, presumably, you are standing in front of them pressing the on switch? The concentrator shrieks for five seconds - this is not fun in the middle of the night. The feed pumps beep loudly three times when they are switched on (and then beep incessantly when they have finished, when they are blocked, when they think they are empty because water is invisible, when the battery is wearing down despite having been on charge all night, etc.). The only machine which doesn't beep is the suction pump - and this is actually less useful than one might think, given that the only sign you have that the battery might be dying (other than a distressing lack of suction when suction is needed) is a very brief flicker of a red light, mostly hidden by the bag.
On Saturday we went to a certain large toy shop to replace some of the Wahooligan's broken toys. We came home with some acceptable replacements, something new which has been so far rejected, and more playdough for Little Fish (because although I hate it, she loves it). Mog decided she was a teenager and too cool for toys, and was not interested in any of it.
So yesterday, despite not being able to get to church, we should have been set with plenty of things to keep the next generation interested and active. Instead, the Wahooligan has spent much of the day chewing a piece of muslin, Mog has spent the day kicking anyone who comes near her, *and Little Fish has alternated whinging for biscuits with hoisting her babies
And inbetween persuading Little Fish that if Mog is kicking her, the sensible option would be to move out of range rather than sit still crying lots, and persuading the other two that coughing is useful and breathing has much to recommend it, I have been wrestling with the computer to write this; apparently my internet access is now rationed. I keep being allowed online just long enough to mostly upload one photo, before everything goes into error mode once more.
Is it bedtime yet?
* the photo is in focus; her foot is just seriously on the move.