Four weeks since Little Fish had her hip op (right sided femoral and pelvic osteotomies for the orthopaedically intrigued amongst you).
Four weeks without a bath, including one with an unidentified puking lurgy. She's interesting to get near. This is going to be hard on her this week, staying as we are in a house with a hydrotherapy pool attached. I tried to persuade the surgeon that an early brace removal might be an option but he was not convinced.
Four months is how old the Wahooligan was the first time he came to stay with us. His story is not mine to tell, but I am sure no one would mind me mentioning he was utterly scrumptious. Fresh from hospital (and back in four days later, and out four days after that, home for a week and then back in again; we all celebrated when he finally managed a month without an overnight stay.
Four weeks is how long the introductions took for Goldie and I; four long weeks where I was fostering another child during the week, having Goldie for the weekends, and visiting her at school midweek when my own fosling was in nursery at the other end of the county. Four hours a day was how long I spent in the car that month. Exhausting and totally worth it. And, at the other end of our journey together, four nights is how long it took her to die after her accident.
Happier things - four friends on holiday with us this time, two adults and two children. Which means we are currently on holiday with four children in four wheelchairs. Four bedrooms in this property (four beds in my bedroom!), four bathrooms too, and if I'm counting them then it's possible I'm looking for four things to make my list complete.