The Small Thing refers to the next-door neighbours as 'the neighbourhoods'. After she'd ripped open and discarded the birthday present I'd given her she informed me the neighbourhoods would be over shortly to cough up with more birthday goodies.
The thing is, these so-called neighbourhoods are just a couple of sweet old ladies who've only ever drunk iced tea and have no idea what moves can be busted to his music. Unless, of course, in the ways typical of the very young, Small Thing sees their inner gangsta.
Or else she's confusing them with that other, genuinely terrifying old lady: Don Mary.
A 90-year-old in black, wrap-around shades is a force to be reckoned with. She has a ready supply of horses at her disposal.