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…Not altogether pleased. No more than anyone would be, jolted out of a sound sleep by unexpected elephants. ― Lloyd Alexander, The Iron Ring

I personally have never heard the thunder of a herd of elephants,  but I imagine it sounds just like the little girl next door? Nugget is cute, with fluffy brown hair and big blue eyes, but for the past 9 months or so, I have been waking to the sounds of a 300 lb baby elephant next door.

I’ve slept with a fan on, even in the glacial depths of winter, to try to drown out the morning rampage. It worked, at first. But she just keeps getting louder.

Hubby mentioned to her Mom that we could hear Nugget…a lot… Nugget’s Mom just laughed through an apology, and then explained that Nugget’s favourite game was “Halloween”; she liked to pretend she was running away from monsters.

My first thought? “Well if she keeps waking me up, she’s gonna find out that monsters are real”.

I’m not a morning person. There is not enough caffeine in the world to make me like mornings. I am not the type of person to rip your head off and spit down your throat, but giving me a wide berth for the first half hour or so, would be in your best interest. Also, don’t talk to me. Don’t ask me any questions. And for the love of all that makes the world keep ticking, don’t make any loud noises or any sudden movements. You’ve been warned.

Not only has the hullabaloo continued, it’s gotten earlier. As in 6 a.m.

Friday morning, I couldn’t take it anymore. It was 6:20 and I had been listening to the continuous stampede for 20 minutes straight. Bleary-eyed, I threw my robe on and stumbled from my room. I hurled my body over the porch railing between our front doors like a gazelle. I could hear Nugget from outside the house. So I pulled up my big girl panties, and knocked with assertiveness.

Daddy came to the door looking confused. I would be too if my neighbour was knocking on my door at 6:20 a.m. in her bathrobe. He was in his boxer shorts, and  bleary-eyed too, but I felt no pity.

First, I resisted my urge to throat-punch him.

Second, I resisted the urge to rip off his head and trumpet down his throat. Instead I chose to speak calmly, quietly, and directly. I listened to his apology, all chuckles and eye-rolling, and “oh nugget…blah blah blah.”.

Third, I resisted the urge to throat punch him. I looked him straight in his bonny brown eyes and said “no, you’re the parent. You need to teach her to be a mouse in the morning”.

I think I scared him. His smile faded, he averted his eyes, and he nodded his head once. I wished him “good morning”, and gracelessly clamoured over the railing, back to my own house.

Then I woke Hubby up to toot my own horn. It isn’t every day that I politely dress down the neighbours in my dressing gown. It’s more like once every 2-3 years…

I only heard her once the rest of Friday morning. I heard her Saturday morning, but since it was after 9, I was forgiving. And this morning, sweet silence.

 “Silence is golden. Unless you have kids. Then silence is suspicious.”

But Nugget isn’t my kid! 🙂