Giddyup
There is a four year old girl that lives in the apartment next to us who loves running. A lot. Like Usain Bolt running. As in, get this kid in a sprinting club or some kind of organized athletic activity because I think she is going to burn holes in the floor. Anyway, every thursday morning she has a play date. A little boy comes over and they spend the entire morning running up and down the very long hallway that stretches the length of the apartment. I imagine their morning conversation goes like this:
Kid #1: Hey Kid #2, wanna play Running?
Kid #2: Duh.
(running ensues)
And then they run, for hours. And then probably go to town on some juice boxes, or Squeezeits or Chuggables or whatever plasticky drink snack the kids are crazy about these days. Long story short, it sounds like we live next to a racetrack, and every time they round the corner I feel myself cowering due to some innate fear of getting trampled.
I guess it could be worse. Our friend downstairs said that his neighbors sound like walruses getting slaughtered every time they have sex.
