It's 2:40 pm. Mary Grace is playing quietly all by herself. Claire is asleep in the swing. I am taking a deep breath, enjoying a few minutes of peace, when all of a sudden, Max starts freaking out.
Two 18 year old kids in shirts and ties are walking up to my front door. Max is barking like a wolf who hasn't eaten in days. The kids are unphased. They continue to my door.
Claire begins to wail.
"OH NO YOU DIDN'T," I shout, channeling my inner Jerry Springer guest. "You two just woke up my baby, so you can keep right on walking, because I am NOT going to become a Mormon today! Max, outside!" I yell, through the open screen door, when what I really want to yell is, "Max, LUNCH! And later you can floss with their ties."
Another peaceful afternoon ruined by the Door-To-Door Mormons.
Between this and the Kirby Vacuum Incident, I think I'm going to have to get one of these for the front yard: