Slumber Party

NOTE: Don't forget about Photoshop Jeff, Holiday Edition! It's important.

---

We live in an apartment, as you probably know. 2nd floor, with Stompy and her daughter Thumper up above us. Every few months, Thumper will have a loud night; we'll hear giggling and running and crashing and whatnot. Generally, a day or three later we'll get an apology from Stompy, who always tells us, "Sorry, but we had a birthday slumber party for Thumper."

By our count, Thumper has had three birthday slumber parties this calendar year.

The most recent was earlier this week. Thumper actually came down to knock on our door and warn us. "I'm having a slumber party, and if we get too loud you can come up and tell us to be quiet. My mom said so."

Classy. Stompy expects us to wander up to her apartment in freezing night-time temperatures? We dug out her phone number, instead. We were ready.

This time, thankfully, they were only noisy at first. It may have had something to do with The Bathroom Incident.

My wife went into our bathroom, and could hear the girls upstairs giggling and rampaging around like wild animals. Then, she could hear Stompy shout, "WHAT are you girls doing in the bathroom?!? Get out of there! Go to bed!"

I don't know what happened upstairs in that bathroom, but whatever it was, it shamed those girls into silent submission. It was the quietest night we've had at the apartment in a long time.