The end (of round1)

The next x 12 bit

Sorry, I have not been feeling too well the last 3 or so days. That infection really seemed to knock me a bit flat. I have not been my pleasant self.  Mum and dad keep saying I am doing so well.  They must be lowering their standards, because normally they would not stand for such crabby behaviour.

I need to get Ramsay on speed dial.  His cooking competition in this establishment is going nowhere quickly.  I have completely gone off my food. In fact, I think I have been poisoned. They always say there is nothing like food poisoning to make you ill.  I have been getting sick far too often for my (or mum and dad's) liking.  We all end up playing dress up a few times a day. Clothes are not lasting long with my whoops's. 

To make matters worse, I have also got such an upset tummy, mum and dad can't keep up with changing my nappies.

Mum and dad seem to be liking their new routine.  They are doing a two night rotation it seems. That's alright with me.  By the end of each turn, I am quite bored of them anyway.  I like the way they offer me different stimulation.  Mum is very creative and will spend hours drawing with me. Dad likes to race me up and down the corridors, or play with the soccer ball.  I am becoming quite good at kicking it, but dad insists we are not playing soccer, but actually Gaelic football. I think that's the one where I am allowed to run holding or kicking the round ball. 

Yesterday was a low point for me.  I have had a run of a few bad days and nights, but yesterday morning I woke up to being so ill, that I wretched the tube from my nose right out.  It didn't hurt as much as when dad pulled the remaining sticky plaster bit off my cheek.  I also felt really sad because I had got sick all over Lamby.  Dad took Lamby away for a bit, but he came back with Lamby looking and smelling very clean, albeit damp.

Some of mum's work friends came to take her out for a late birthday lunch yesterday. She came back from lunch and told us her work was going to send the hotel lots of custard. Mum's work makes the best custard! We normally have a big stash in our cupboard under the stairs at home. Kayla loves it too. I always hear dad serving the custard in the kitchen. He says "one for you, two for me, one for you, two for me."

So just before bed last night, dad changed my nappy and some of the uniforms came in to do OBS. I am quite happy with that, but the last few days, because my eyes have been quite sore, they have been dropping guey water into them. I cannot stand it. I cry and cry, but they do it to me four times a day. Last night though, after the eye drops, the uniforms told dad to leave the room.  I think he may have been in trouble for having a beer in the room.  Two of the uniforms held me down and the third stuck a very long thin pipe up my nose. I screamed and yelled and screamed and yelled. I didn't know what they were doing to me.  I hoped they weren't doing the same to dad for drinking.

Eventually dad came in.  It didn't look like he had been giving a tube in his nose, but he must have been told off because his eyes were also very red like mine.  We just hugged each other.  He kept telling me he was sorry.

The next x 13

Dad stayed over last night.  We were riding up and down the corridor this morning in a new trike which mum calls The Harley. I overheard dad chatting to one of the uniforms about the bee keeping juice they stick in me.  Apparently I had my last bag of it this morning. Dad says I am very strong fighter and I have won round one. He said there are two more rounds. I don't really like boxing dad.