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Devil child is robbing me of heavenly sleep

By Ai Yang (China Daily)
Updated: 2010-02-26 11:54

My upstairs neighbor's child is living proof that not all kids are harmless little angels - some are pure devils.

Every excruciating morning, in my yet sane memory, the baby boy puts on an exhausting but powerful drama, which has never failed to impress so far. It is a free daily alarm system that we, as the permanent downstairs residents, unfortunately cannot turn off.

5 am. The sweet silence of dawn is ruthlessly shattered by a sudden sob.

5.01 am. The noise wakes up my miserable mother.

5.05 am. I'm turning and tossing on my bed to the relentless and rhythmic cries that are now increasing in volume incredibly.

5.10 am. Little devil's morning tantrum goes into full blast. A mixture of sobbing, screaming and yelling penetrates the ceiling and shoots right into my exploding head.

5.15 am. With an almost impossible strong will, I force myself back to my much needed sleep.

7 am sharp. Thump. Thump. Thump. The physically small child storms through the house with all his morning menace and might, feet banging on the floor as loud as he can.

7.10 am. Continuous roaring stamps and piercing screams from child, and matching shouting-backs from mother! "No, you have to go to the kindergarten! Do you hear me?!"

Yes, I do.

I have, many times in my blurred morning consciousness, imagined how I would ultimately - after all these years' endurance - knock open my upstairs neighbor's door, present myself as a poor, hollow eyed, disturbed sleeper in pajamas, and beg the parents to take care of that child of theirs.

Or perhaps shall I try a more subtle way? Maybe, I should discreetly dump a parenting book entitled How to soothe your crying child into the 702 mailbox so that they get the hint? And then

8 am. As all is carefully planned by now, the crying suddenly disappears, the stampings vanish, and peace resumes - the alarm finally stops. And this is how another precious morning of sleep is robbed from me.

Over the years, I have complained about the morning barking to many friends, but never opened up to the upstairs mother, who produced my very misery a few years ago. I suppose I don't live in the friendliest neighborhood - it is a block of beautifully designed concrete where everyone seems too occupied to talk to each other. Sometimes I think, maybe the poor child would sulk less if he had friends to play with and was not forced to play the piano every week, which only adds to my tuneless torture.

I haven't plucked up the courage to talk to the mother about my suffering. I can only wish my little alarm boy will grow up healthily on his own endeavor.