A Letter to my Neighbour

Vicki Shenkin Kerr - 15 May 16

An open letter to the neighbour who lives top floor, far right… (because I’m too much of a wimp to confront them directly).

Why hello there. Let me introduce myself. I’m Vicki. I live downstairs from you with my husband and our one year old son. You’ll have probably seen us about. It was the wee one’s birthday last week – he wore a homemade crown and ate a caterpillar cake.

But I digress. You see on Monday, the little guy began feeling a bit poorly. The doctor said to give him Calpol and keep him hydrated. I’ve been doing that. Alongside home remedies of cuddle after cuddle after cuddle. I’m not a bad mother. You may think I am. In fact I’m sure that last night you felt you were merely doing your civil duty by thumping on your floorboards (my ceiling) in response to him crying to ensure I was in fact awake and attending to my child. I was. I’d actually been awake all night monitoring him but as an obviously neglectful mother, I wasn’t too sure whether to bother even attempting to stop him crying. Your encouragement let me see the value in it and for that I am grateful. You’ll note he only cried for a few minutes; I’m sure it was your truly banging support that helped us achieve this goal.

I know this has happened once before – just over a month ago (I keep a diary to remember things – baby brain you know), so in order to keep inter-flat relations positive, I shall endeavour to give you at least 24 hour notice when he next feels unwell; then I can send you a fruit basket in advance. Would that be nice? I’m sure if he could speak he’d be mortified to know that his pain was upsetting anyone else and while he’s too young to appreciate the value of a fruit basket, the sentiment is surely there. And if I dropped you off some frozen breastmilk or a squeaky giraffe, I’m not sure you’d see the value.

I am trying to keep the noise down for you. Now when he cries in the night I don’t bother checking to see if he’s hungry/dirty/ill – I just shove a dummy in his mouth and gaffa tape it on. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that gesture.

For my efforts though if I could make one polite request. I know it’s very seldom – in fact possibly even less frequent than my baby being poorly – but if you could maybe invest in a less squeaky bed. Or maybe cease in extra marital relations altogether. I’d really appreciate it. In fact, no, keep going. You might make a baby and learn a bit of empathy along the way.

Vicki Shenkin Kerr

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