Dear People Who Live Upstairs,

Congratulations on your new baby! It’s nice to know that your kid has these wonderfully healthy lungs, even at 2 in the morning. I’m sure you’re appreciating that more than I am. Since your new child’s room is directly over my not-so-new child’s room, my child usually appreciates your child’s lungs even more than I do, but tonight I am getting a special appreciation for them. In fact, I am impressed. Your kid has lungs that quite possibly stretch all the way into his/her feet. Those are the lungs that will enable your child to one day stand in the toy aisle at WalMart and scream “Iiiiiiii waaaaaaaaaannnnnnt iiiittttt!!!” fifty two times without taking a breath. Trust me, other people will appreciate that, too.

Since you are normally very quiet—as opposed to the 3 a.m. headboard bangers that previously occupied your domicile—I find the sudden burst of activity up there kind of amusing. I can pretty much tell what you’re doing. Like tonight: the baby had a blow out, right? I base this on the sound of those lungs, the hurried footsteps back and forth, followed by the sound of water flowing into the bathtub, as well as the washing machine kicking on ten minutes later.

I don’t mind it. It’s necessary noise, not selfish I-don’t-care-about-the-neighbors noise.

You’re probably not going to get a whole lot of sleep tonight, and in an hour or two you might be crying, too, pleading with your spawn to please go to sleep, just for a little while. You might want to take a deep breath and sit back with the kid held close against you, and enjoy it, lungs and all. You’re not going to get much sleep anyway, and since we’re all going to get to hear him/her sing out through the night, there’s no point in getting upset about it.

There’s music in all of that. Proof of life.

I’m just glad it’s you and not me dealing with it…

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