Plodding on

   

The sun came out, and we felt the need to commemorate the event. Sadly, it looks as though the sun will not be out at the weekend, in time for a traditionally festive Bun Throwing. But that's ok; we had our own mini  version with the Guides and Brownies on Monday. And jolly good it was too.


Friends visiting for the weekend; fun and food and far too many little girls all competing for cuddles.

One small seven year old delighted with herself for "Knowing all my tens and twos"; one mother slightly less delighted to see evidence of this scrawled over any flat surface; one certificate proving this warrants entry into the school's "Golden Book" for fabulous achievements, and, at the same time, one little girl sad that her sessions with the play specialist have come to an end.

One nine year old, celebrating the summer with multiple doses of rectal diazepam; not great news as she's currently on four regular anticonvulsants which should, between them, leave her far too snowed to even think about slipping into prolongued seizures.

But also, one nine year old who is managing to express herself clearly and consistently, so that I have now had similar conversations with both school and respite along the lines of "We asked her if she was getting full, and she said she wanted more to eat, but we thought we'd better just check." Lovely stuff - that she is now feeling hungry at times, and also knows when she is getting full. And even more than that, that she is letting others know. Knowing that she can express herself even when I am not around to interpret is a big deal.

More overnight visitors last night; last minute and a short on-the-way-to-hospital stay, but all went well for them today, so that's good too.

A fixed van door; £15 for the part and £85 for the labour. Ouch, but getting in and out is kind of useful really.

Two huge cats still negotiating their peace agreement (spot them both in the photo if you can); both wishing to assert their rights to my lap. One of whom has discovered the best way to guarantee nighttime attention is to leap on The Little Princess' bed and prowl around her face until she wakes and calls for me. I shut him in a room; he calls all night. I shut her in her room; she calls all night. So I settle for much muttering.

Plans afoot for the summer holidays, for October half term, even for Christmas, but so far only one day booked up over half term. Since tomorrow is the last day of term, I'm thinking this may need sorting out.

A child apparently accidentally discharged from three different medical bits and pieces, so much chasing of appointments. A letter from a different hospital, dated April 30th but only just reached us, rearranging an appointment which we have already attended. Wonderful.

So the sun's sort of out, the girls are sort of alright, and I'm sort of tired; sat down to read emails before going to bed and that was too long ago. Soft sheets are calling my name. Pictures are semi unrelated and in wrong orders; can't work out the new blogger format. Sorry.

Tia