Friday, April 27, 2007

the taming of the shrew

And by "shrew" I mean the little three-year-old terrorist who lives above me and holds us all hostage with his shrieking temper tantrums.

I bumped into my upstairs-lady yesterday out tending the plants in the parking strip. She asked me if I'd gotten the note from Billy.* Note from Billy? Then she explained that he had been screaming so much that morning, she had made him make me an apology note. How sweet.

She said, "He was just out of control. I mean, we don't have screaming like that in our house."

Oh don't you? By my count, you have screaming like that in your house every, single day for at least half an hour. You're in denial. But anyway, this time I managed to sleep through it, apparently, because I had no idea which screaming she was talking about.

Regardless, I think it's really awesome that they made him write an apology. Its time the little monster starts learning that there are other people on the planet besides him. How else can he be expected to grow up and be anything other than a monster?

The note, which I finally fished out of my mailbox last night after work, was sadly not written by Billy. Billy, of course, is three and as suspected can't write yet. I doubt he dictated it, but hopefully somebody at least read it to him. It says "Dear Poet, Sorry that I screamed a lot this morning." It is punctuated by a sticker shaped like a heart. On the back he has drawn a picture. A big blue and green blob that is maybe supposed to be the earth. I guess his only talent is screaming. For his part, though, I learned he has a double ear-infection. I might be screaming a lot too, in his shoes.

*Name changed to protect the minor.


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