The Kavanaugh family has created a trend this holiday season. It's not one to be proud of, nor will it roll into a Christmas tradition to look forward to in coming years. Rather, its embarrassing and inappropriate.
This morning my son, (2nd time this month) answered the front door buck naked. To a complete stranger. Technically, and important to Miller, he was wearing a t-shirt. Obviously, and much more important to the Amazon Fresh guy, Miller was NAKED.
Before CPS is alerted I must paint the back story to this development. As UPS claims, it's all about logistics. You see, we live in a townhouse. It's four stories but small. Think of it more as a little human Habitrail than a sprawling urban retreat that its many stories implies. As city folk and transplants from Manhattan back to the Pacific Northwest, we can not only make due with layout challenges, but spin it in our favor. We're proud owners of two children that are beyond their years in staircase navigation. Score one for early dexterity development. The not so spin-able downside it that these kids are fast.
One additional point to our house that I'd like to mention is the 37 steps it takes to get to our front door from street level. Thats right- 37. I've counted them numerous times, usually when the carry load of groceries, babies, strollers or garbage, etc in my arms starts to exceed the 30 lbs. weight limit my back has.
What I'm basically saying is it's rare we get strangers willing to make the climb to appreciate the three- ring circus caused by ringing our front door. Our extended family and neighbors know to just walk in or at least call while embarking on the expedition that is to reach the summit of our domicile.
So when the doorbell rings (you guessed it- twice this month so far) all hell breaks loose. Including the unruly 95 pound dog, the 5 of us are occupying all four floors of the house at this point. My wife has found refuge in the master bathroom on the top level (and farthest from the front door) during this fire drill. In her defense, these incidents have happened early in the morning so she's getting ready- lucky her. Quinn and I are in the kitchen eating breakfast. Sasha (the Bernese Mountain Dog), having twice the number of legs that my speedy children do, loudly makes the journey from the basement to the front door before the bell stops ringing. As I grab Quinn off the stool and run down the stairs I remember that I sent Miller to his room minutes before to grab some jeans.
And there you have it.
The Amazon Fresh guy was standing in the doorway never happier in his life to be holding bags and bags of groceries in his not molesting hands, afraid to move and certainly not stepping into the house until Dad grabbed the naked kid.
Unfortunately I think a delivery fee will be applied from now on.