I must extend my gratitude for your thoughtful letter regarding the noise levels from our little one. It’s always a pleasure to receive something in the mail that isn’t a bill!
I must commend you on your impressive three-page handwritten note. It’s a shame we haven’t traded email addresses yet; that could’ve made our exchanges even more regular!
You mentioned that our toddler’s morning cries startle you awake around 6:00 a.m. I find it fascinating that you’ve not managed to sleep past that hour, even on weekends. Given that our little one usually rises around 4:30, I take it as a compliment that we’re managing to keep things relatively quiet!
Your offer to help us select a “proper” carpet is intriguing—especially since you’re an interior designer. I wonder what kind of carpet can withstand the inevitable messes of baby life, from poop to spaghetti stains?
You also suggested we take some toys outdoors. I’d be more than happy to bring our toddler outside for a fun game of “bang the toy” on your air conditioning unit. Fresh air is invigorating, almost as much as breakfast thrown from a high chair!
I recall introducing myself when you first moved in and suggesting you let us know if we were too noisy. It’s a bit like when your boyfriend insists you look amazing in those pleather pants—bless him!
So, you can hear the “choo-choo” noises I make while reading to my child? Just a reminder: the air vents in our building work in both directions! And by the way, I have a hunch that your boyfriend may not be as faithful as you think. Maybe it’s time to reconsider those late-night calls to Kelly.
I noticed last Thursday that you had quite the balancing act with your green smoothie, coffee, and yoga bag—all while wearing heels on your way to your SUV. I was impressed! Meanwhile, I hadn’t showered for a couple of days, but hey, at least my hair was dry too!
Oh, and don’t forget to collect your West Elm package left by the front door. I wouldn’t want my son to “accidentally” jump on the fragile sticker!
Mail is a true delight, isn’t it?
XXOO, The Mom from Above