Best served coldRemember these folks? And I haven't even told you about the entire evening they spent shouting the following exchange over and over:
She-neighbor: "I don't wanna kiss your ass!"
He-neighbor: "You can kiss my ass! C'mon! Kiss my ass!"
She-neighbor: "You can't make me! I'm not gonna kiss your ass! I don't wanna kiss your ass!"
Really, I'm sure they are lovely, classy folks—at least before the sun goes down.
Tonight, however, my daughter announced--unprecedentedly, and just after being tucked in and lights out--that she needed to use the potty. She did, in fact.
Our bathroom is directly opposite their patio, where if I didn't avert my eyes, I could have seen them smoking, relaxing at the end of a hot day, sipping beers.
That is, until my daughter produced a refrain of her own (imagine this crowed loudly and repeatedly, with the glee and satisfaction that only a 2-3 year old feels in bodily productions of such kinds):
"That was a BIIIIIGGGG Poop, huh mommy! A big, big, big poop! That's a big smelly poop. Poop is smelly, Mama? Stinky. I had a biiiiiiiiiig, stinky POOOOOOOOP in my butt! And now I'm peeing on that BIIIIIIIIIIIGGGG STINKY POOP! Can you smell my poop? Does it smell bad? Is it stinky? That's a big, big, big, big BIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGG STINKY POOP!!!"