Teen Logic = A Black Hole

Last night after the camera flash blindness, the halloween candy crash, the toothpaste terrorism, and the bedtime circus act (which, let me tell you, required the balance and bravery of a dental floss tightrope walk over boiling lava), we closed the kids' bedroom door and took the first breath of the evening, wiping sweat from our brows and wearily, triumphantly looking at each other like, "Hey, you made it out alive, too! Cool!"

We had just settled in to the evening trance when the entire house exploded in an array of loudness - DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was interrupted, joined, and followed by our large, stupid, yet dearly loved dog, clomping like a clydesdale all the way down the stairs and barking like someone was taking the last dog food pebble on the earth from him, fangs flashing, black fur flying, claws scraping all over the tile floor as he made the futile attempt to attack - through the closed front door, mind you - the people who had THE NERVE to be ringing our doorbell.

Now, I realize that everyone says teenagers speak another language and all that. But how much more clear can I be than, "Hannah, tell Chelsea if she wants to come by, she has to do it BEFORE THE KIDS GO TO BED BECAUSE I DON'T WANT THE DOORBELL AND THE DOG BARKING TO WAKE THEM UP."

Stupid teenagers. Luckily the kids were in enough of a sugar coma that they slept through armageddon, and the teens better be glad. Because if the delicate balance of the pre-school sleep universe I had just procured were ripped from my clutches in mere seconds, and for a few friggin' pieces of candy for some random teenagers, this half-blind-from-flash-happy-photographer-husband-in-her-pajamas-loading-the-dishwasher-PSYCHO MOM would have gone medieval on their little punk rock costumed asses. Of course, then I probably would have been sued...and I just don't have the time for that right now.