This evening I found a note posted to my front door. Our 20-something neighbors downstairs have written to complain at the noise His Holiness makes, on Sundays in particular, but the letter included a general and lengthy statement of disapproval about the way he is being parented. “Our parents raised us to be quiet” was one of the statements and “We pay a lot of rent - an apartment is no place for a child” was another.
As we speak His Holiness is hog-tied in his bed, with a gag in his small mouth. We have rugs stuffed under the door to prevent the escape of even the slightest bit of sound. There is still a faint and somewhat annoying whimper of struggle that you can just make out if you press your ear to his bedroom door and of course there is that awful whooshing sound of air being sucked in and out of his little nose as he struggles to breath with the gag in place. I haven’t decided if I should leave all of this apparatus in place overnight for fear that he might wake at 2AM and cry out for a glass of water thereby disturbing the serenity of the young singles who live downstairs and whose well-being means so very much to me.
We will just have to play this one by ear. Those of you with toddlers out there may have some advice for me – a relative new hand at child rearing. The physical restraints will stay in place until we can figure out another way to keep him from making any unacceptable sounds or I devise some way to bring about the permanent evacuation of the third floor of this building – and believe me boys and girls – I am putting my agitated mind to that very task.