Funny thing, I was reading a newly discovered blog this morning. She wrote about how Tony Soprano and another nicely-dressed gentlemen arrived at her door to enlighten her. I was amused.
Not 40 minutes later, just a few seconds ago... I heard a tap, tap, tap. I'm not really sure how the dude got all the way from Virginia to California in such a short time -- could there be more than one?
Do I dare mention that I'm still in my pajamas at 9:40 am, I was a bit ripe from 12 rounds of Duck, Duck, Goose, and that I haven't washed my hair in two days? It's true. true. and true.
I peeked out the door and saw a suited-up little boy -- couldn't be more than eight -- standing uncomfortably with a well-groomed grown man. Say what you want about disregarding an adult, but here's a kid who's young and impressionable and I didn't want to be that mean lady with the unwashed hair and scowl, refusing to answer the call.
So I spent a minute or two with the man who was now probably wishing he had chosen a house with a mom who didn't have monkeys on her pants. While he delivered his message, I watched the little boy out of the corner of my eye. Was I imagining that he wished he was spending his Saturday morning playing soccer or video games -- anything but going door to door?
Brady came running over to listen, saying hi to the boy. Here we were, my son looking to me wondering what this interaction meant... and maybe this man's son, feeling a bit insecure, afraid that yet another person would slam the door on him and his dad.
I thanked them for coming, happily accepted his pamphlets, and closed the door while smiling back at my little guy.
While I'm not packing up the kids to head off to church to continue our education, I guess you could say I'm now a part of the Jehovah Witness protection program -- because the opportunity to teach a child through example sometimes happens when you're not wearing a bra.