Our new house is a two flat. And we decided to keep the renters who came with the place to, you know, keep from going bankrupt and stuff. They are this very nice, all American family. Mom, Dad and Baby Pete.
Baby Pete is an adorable little cherub who says things like “Og” when he sees Grover and waves bye bye and I’m fairly certain hates Luca’s guts.
Why? Because baby Pete’s bedroom is directly above Luca, and Luca is the loudest child in the history of the world.
Luca doesn’t talk, he shouts. Every utterance is turned all the way up to eleven. The most mundane, non shriek worthy thought has to be screamed. “I WANT MILK!” “LET’S PLAY NINJAS!” “THE ORANGE FISH IS DEAD!” Okay, the last one probably warrants a scream.
Last night, I was playing with him and he shrieked, “I AM GOING TO SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE!”
We using flashlights as guns. Don’t tell Diana.
I stopped the violence and said, “Luca. You have to be quieter. Baby Pete is right upstairs. He needs to sleep. And when you yell, you’ll wake him up and he’ll cry. You don’t want Baby Pete to cry, do you?”
Luca thought for a second and I could see him attempt to lower his personal amplifier. He shout-whispered, “I am going to shoot you in the face.”
“Good,” I said. “Let’s keep playing.”
“MY NINJA HAS A GUN AND HE IS GOING TO SHOOT YOU BECAUSE HE IS A BAD GUY!”
I could imagine Baby Pete holding a pillow over his ears and threatening to call the cops like an elderly New York tenement occupant.
I eventually put him to bed and went out to watch “Breaking Bad” with Diana, who, because of her hearing issues, has to have the volume up to ear rattling levels.