“Do Be De Doo”

Daisy has been sprinkled with fairy dust today!  OK, so they had to use a heck of a lot of the stuff but nethertheless she must have been sprinkled as she’s been an angel.  So different than two days ago when she had horns either side of her head and was ready to go to war with anyone in her radar.  That’s the trouble with Daisy, no two days are the same, nothing is predictable, plans cannot (and do not) go to plan all depending on her mood.  It unnerves me that she’s so happy because I know the bubble will burst, but I am going to enjoy her for the time being.

Anyone who’s ever helped care for Daisy will know that she has a ‘naughty noise’! The ‘naughty noise’ however is a fun noise, it is only heard when she is in a good mood. So,when I heard ‘doo be de doo’ in a high pitched tone this morning I knew something was up. I followed the tune and there she was, butt naked, standing in her brothers bedroom window, humungous boobs displayed to the waking world, waving her nappy – clean, like a flag and barking at a man walking his dog, (who nearly walked into a lamppost)……..dear god, she is absolutely bonkers and has no shame!  I waved to the man (with two fingers) and pulled down the blind pretty sure that one day she’s going to cause a nasty accident outside our house.

Isn’t it heartbreaking then, that this morning whilst she’s in this most perfect mood, I noticed two really nasty blisters on her heels.  She didn’t hobble or moan, she didn’t complain of pain because she can’t, I just happened to see them when I was dressing her.  The skin was broken and looked really angry……..she must have been in pain the day before but couldn’t tell anyone, this I find unbearably sad.  Imagine not being able to say how you feel or do anything about discomfort.  Daisy has always been really tough but still must feel pain of some sort.  I usually notice any mark or bruise (ask the school) immediately, so missing these blisters has upset me.  Poor little thing.  Plasters on, she’s oblivious.  Off to school she trots.


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