Two Neighbors of Mine
I hate one of my neighbors. B-I-T-C-H. She lives in the next building over with her four (?) year old son. At least three times a week, within the limited span of time I spend in my apartment, I hear the boy crying, and it always breaks my heart. Normally, a child crying just annoys the hell out of me. “Can’t that lady shut him up?” or “What a whiny brat!” Don’t get me wrong. I usually react like that when it’s clear the child is spoiled rotten. Of course there are different kinds of cries, and they shouldn’t be confused. The neighbor boy’s crying sounds like fear, confusion, and hopelessness more than selfishness or spoiledness. His mother, a young “woman”, never bothers to consider why her son cries. Her response is always “What?! Why are you crying? STOP CRYING! No one hit you! Why? Why are you crying?!” over and over, as the child whimpers on and on. It’s really hard on the ears, on the brain, on the heart mostly, to hear this right outside my window, to hear it as it occurs, to imagine what the child is feeling. Why doesn’t that lady ever feel this way? How can she instill fear in a four year old?
Today the lady went too ignorantly, too selfishly far, when her typical rant was followed by the sound of two smacks/spanks/slaps. Is that because the child didn’t control his crying soon enough? Sigh.
It’s sad. But then I remember there’s far worse. …Man, talk about a Debbie Downer post.
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