How to Scare the Neighbors Away in Two Easy Steps

It’s about 5:30, maybe 6 p.m. when the alarm sounds. “Adam,” she shrieks. “Adam is here!”

Adam. Our UPS man. And my 6-year-old’s “boyfriend.” Point of fact, he is not a pedophile (should I repeat that in bold?). He has not done anything to put himself in this position. Anything but bring packages, loads of packages (I am a blogging mom after all) to the house where a boy crazy little girl lives. So there’s that. It’s like dangling candy in front of a baby, I suppose, only he gets paid for it, and it’s totes legal.

It used to amuse me to no end. This is Adam, the guy who I’ve known for years, the guy who, when I was pregnant, I would pick on when he boxed my car in downtown. “Come on,” I’d yell at the big brown truck, “a little respect for the belly?” He was always just a guy, and one who happened to swing by my house, until he became my daughter’s boyfriend. And then I was tickled. As a kid, I had my own fascination with the UPS driver, the man I was convinced brought me my boots — ignoring the simple fact that my mother would place an order with Cabela’s in order to get those boots in that truck. That my daughter held the same fascination was like a walk down memory lane.

But it’s of late that I’ve started to realize it’s a problem. Again, not with him. UPS higher ups, if you’re reading this, your driver is among the best. Funny, but courteous. Real. Human. He’s a people person. Sager says give him a raise.

The problem is my daughter. And her penchant for greeting Adam in all manner of dress with no regard for situation. See, now that school is out, and she’s home all day, sometimes with sitter, sometimes without, the ears that cannot hear the likes of “clean your room” or “did you finish your homework” are attuned to the special whine of brakes on box truck. And she’s off like a light, no matter whether it’s in pajamas or much less, fairy wings banging at her back or undies dangling off her hips. I don’t want to force her out of her childhood by making her get all dressed up at 6 and in the summer no less, but she’s 6! And he’s a grown man! He shouldn’t be subjected to this!

And then to add insult to injury, if I make the mistake of making it to the door first, why the only choice, then, is of course to throw it open and join me. With the dog. Who I had closed the door on. Oops. So let me add this up for you. Half nekkid girl. Barky, scratchy dog. No one is ever going to come to our house again when the word gets out, are they? They’ll be convinced I’m trying to entrap them and then have them attacked for good measure.

Aww crap, I just gave away the evil plan.

Image via UPS

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