Chicken

Sometimes I think I make life difficult for myself. Why else would I be even bothering to argue with Little Fish, who remains adamant this is a model chicken.

Back on the ward again tonight, same place, different child. Tonight I get to watch LF's numbers go up and down as she has her annual sleep study. This one to check the adjustment we made after her home one have been effective. I can't find reference for most of the figures, so I have no idea and won't until morning. This is probably a good thing; no point in staring and wondering, I may as well sleep and know the many alarms aren't Mog's and there for are not my responsability. A three bedded bay and three children having sleep studies. LF the only one with a Nippy, we are not popular with the quieter sleepers. Then again, she was in bed at 6 and had to put up with overenthusiastically loud toddler on one side and grumpy spiderman pyjama clad boy on the other with a parent who clearly knows every member of staff on the ward and has to share her newest news with all of them. So maybe this is her revenge. And maybe not.

Mad day tomorrow; hope the wardround is early and then dash to Helen House to pick up Mog before they kick her out at 11. Head home to check post and see if we have a date for Mog's CT scan, feed and placate the cats, then back to the hospice to drop off Little Fish. We will all finally manage a couple of nights proper respite on Wednesday. It begins in 42 hours. Not that I'm counting or anything...

Tia