You recall that legendary story of when the two Jehovah’s Witness ladies stopped by when my husband had overslept… and he was expecting someone else when he answered the door?
In his tighty whities?
And gave them the shock of their lives when he gave up salvaging any measure of pride, threw his hands up and yelled, “you wanna party?”
Just let me remind you of what the dude’s idea of a typical “party” is:

(The first time this picture was posted on this here blog, it spawned some crazy comments, including a case of mistaken identity which led to Mr. Daddy’s full moniker: Mr. Rockin Hottie Magnum Daddy. It’s worth the read to laugh with poor Lisa!)
Later, more of them stopped by when I was very sick, and a three-year old Itty Bit ran and answered the door before I could chase him down in my Dayquil stupor… and then they had the gall to yell at me for letting my toddler answer his own door? Once they discovered I was deaf, they made sure to emphasize some literature with a happy Asian couple and a rainbow. I was very confused.
But apparently I have taught Boogadacious well about sounding the alarm when someone drives onto our property.
He and Cousin Bubba were out splashing in the kiddie pool:

(he slays me - goggles, an inner tube, and a life jacket… for water that reaches his knees. We’re all about safety these days)
…until an unknown combatant entered their field of view.
The next thing I knew, he was tearing up the back porch and into the kitchen – a big slippery dripping mess of crazed kid.
“THE COLLEGE GUY IS HERE! THE COLLEGE GUY IS HERE!”
I was baffled at his screaming and took two steps out the door to see a shamefaced young man with a clipboard and backpack – with his hands in the air as if he expected to be shot.
(Well… the boys DID have water guns).
He looked harmless enough and every single thing he was wearing and carrying screamed SALESMAN.
So my husband’s first thought was to…
offer him a chair
???????
I was thoroughly confused.
(again).
The kid engaged in small talk about the hometowns, got splashed by some rogue boys, and gave his spiel while melting in the hot sun.
And somehow walked away totally scoring a sale.
I sat there and marveled at my husband’s apparent kryptonite.
CURRICULUM.
Say it with me again.
My husband bought CURRICULUM.
(Though in his defense, it wasn’t the $2000 Hoover the neighbors did).
And as the kid was leaving, he said he’d drop off the shipment next week. Then casually remarked,
“then we can look at the stuff and we can have a party”.
Party.
He just said PARTY.
And I’m totally afraid of where my husband is going to go with that.
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