Niamh, an elevator, and a dog

Told from Emily's perspective:

This morning as I was attempting to take out our overflowing paper recycling with Niamh and Muriel in tow, I told Niamh to hold the elevator door open for me. She did not, and I was not quick enough to stop the door from closing. Of course, the one time the elevator door closes with one of my children inside and me outside, it got called away. And of course, it wasn’t just anyone in the lobby waiting for the elevator. It was Niamh’s arch nemesis–the upstairs neighbor and his big mean scary dog (i.e.-sweetest golden retriever/lab type dog ever). I heard shrieks and screams coming from below and tried to get the elevator back up, as Muriel was howling in the stroller and I didn’t want to leave her (no idea why did it not occur to me to carry her down in my arms).

Have I ever mentioned how the smallest sound reverberates, echos, and is amplified ten times in our stairwell and lobby? The elevator wouldn’t come, so I dashed down the stairs, leaving a very angry baby behind. I reached the bottom to see Niamh backed into a corner of the elevator as far as she possibly could, her face streaked with tears, and the neighbor trying to assure Niamh that everything was okay.

When we got back to the apartment Niamh told me “no woof-woof eat nya-nya all up.” I told her that dogs don’t eat little girls and she thought for a moment before saying “no woof-woof eat nya-nya shoes.”