The Beast

Remember my post about my lovely neighbor? Well, I have so much to update you about! I'll make a list.

1. "I know who you are."

[After that, each time we saw her, she was so friendly. Our nice neighbors were always talking about how much they hate her, but I didn't know how much of their stories to really believe, but I would always think back to the "I know who you are" story, so they could be telling the truth. I just hadn't really seen anything myself.]

2. Beck and I were playing during the day, and yes, he was running back and forth a little more than usual, but he just loved playing this game. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. I opened the door, and the neighbor goes, "Can you PLEASE keep your child from RUNNING and JUMPING on my head?!?!" I was shocked, and I said, "OK..." As she walked away, I said, "You know he's two, right?" "What?!" "You know he's two?" "I KNOW HE'S TWO! BUT I CAME UP HERE AND NICELY ASKED YOU..." I stopped listening at this point and just said another, "OK..." Lesson: You can be really rude, but if you include the word please in your sentence, you're nicely asking someone to do something. Good to know.

[I no longer talk to her when she comes around and does her super friendly act.

Also, sometime between these two run-ins, Beck threw his ball into her fenced-in patio area. We were like, "Well crap. That ball's a goner." It was like our own version of the Sandlot. Matt ended up holding Beck from his feet and dangling him over so he could grab the ball. Success. During this, I decided to call the precious little darling The Beast.]

3. Evening. Matt was outside with the nice neighbor (really, the actual nice one), and Beck and I were hanging out in our apartment. Matt came in and said, "A cop just pulled up and went into the downstairs neighbor's apartment." I thought that was weird. All the different options of why he was there ran through my head. Was she dead? Was he here because of us? Matt went back outside for a while, then came back and said, "Yep, she called the cops on Beck." The cop had come out and asked if Matt or the nice neighbor lived upstairs. Matt said that he did. The cop then explained what she was upset about, but he also said he had a two-year-old and knows that you can't really control them. (And why should you stop them from being two?!) He also didn't have any sympathy for her since she was yelling at him about us. He said she'll probably call again, and that he'll have to come back out, but to try to deal with her until she moves out. (But that's not until February, which is when we move out.) WHO CALLS THE POLICE ON A TWO-YEAR-OLD?!

[After that, I got a pretty hardcore glare as I came out of my apartment one day.]

4. Today. Daytime. We had the sliding glass door open because it's actually starting to cool down! Beck was standing in the living room watching a movie, and I was in the kitchen or walking back from my room. I don't really remember, but my point is that it was quiet. Then I heard yelling outside. Basically she yelled up to us through the open door and threatened to call the cops again if I didn't make Beck chill. Uhhh he's not even moving! I couldn't believe what just happened, so I called Matt and told him. I decided to go talk to the office about it since there's nothing else I could really do. I cried, then I went to the bathroom to make myself a little more presentable to go to the office, and I was totally shaking. I won't lie...I'm PMSing, and it sometimes makes my bad emotions get even worse. Writing this out also makes me feel stupid for being so upset, but I was (and still am). Beck and I went over to the office, where I swear the girl has a crush on Matt. I'm down with that since we'll probably get preferential treatment! I filled her in on the latest incident, and of course I cried at the end. This crying thing should be over in a day or two...hopefully.

So basically we need to be sleeping, gone, or quietly laying on the couch without breathing too loudly to make sure The Beast doesn't get upset.

Matt's more worried about Beck pleasing The Beast than I am. He is two (have I drilled that into your heads enough?), and I'm going to let him be two. I tell him no all the time, but I'm not going to tell him no when it's a perfectly acceptable thing to do. I'm going to let him run to his room because running is so much more entertaining than walking! I'm going to let him do normal two-year-old things. He's not jumping off the couch or bouncing balls on the ground. Damn it, he will be two!

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Story that kind of goes along with the post:

I got the mail while coming back from the office and opened them when we got back to our apartment. Two pieces of mail made me cry--one bill and one random act of kindness that is making me cry as I think about it. Yeah, I'm a psycho right now. Beck heard me sniffle (what a stupid word), and he goes, "Nose?" and I nodded. He went to the bathroom and after quite a while, he came out with this:

Oh my gosh. Cutest munchkin ever. Makes me tear up just looking at it! I don't like being a psycho crier!!!! Hormones, go back to normal!!!!!!*

LONG post! Did anyone even read it?

*extra exclamation points especially for Clint.