1. My 12-year-old son last night at 10PM, "Guys, someone keeps ringing the doorbell." No one ever rings our doorbell this late.
  2. Me, Protector of the House, speaking in my deepest voice toward the door, "Who is it?!?"
  3. Mystery voice, "I have your pizza."
  4. Protector of the House, sceptical and still in deep voice mode, "We did not order a pizza!"
  5. Mystery voice now sounding soft and sad, "You don't want your pizza?"
  6. Me, still in Protector of the House role, "We did not order a pizza!"
  7. My wife, arriving at the window near the door as the Mystery Person retreats, "That was a Domino's driver and it was a woman." Way to be a man, David.
  8. Me, now shifting into 'I Feel Like an Ass' mode, opening the front door to say, "I'm sorry..." and helping her determine that Domino's just had the wrong address.
  9. My wife upon my return, "You could have offered to buy the pizza. It would have been a nice treat." Ah, my dear sometimes Protector and Provider roles have little common ground. Said of course in my deepest voice.