Trust me, I'd rather growl through the door.

Twice today, I've heard the sound that drops me in my tracks, sends me quickly, stealthily crawling through the house to avoid windows, pleading with a toddler to, "Shhh.. Be quiet." to which she replies loudly, "SHHH! I quiet! Thank you!" and with a surgeon's steadiness, pulling back a curtain precisely two millimeters to reveal uninvited, unexpected visitors on the porch.

It's been happening more and more frequently. . . and I'm over it.

Earlier today, it was the creepy neighbor next door who wears no pants. After two knocks and one door bell chime, he placed some of our junk mail in our mailbox and left. You wear no pants and have a criminal record. Junk mail from Verizon isn't your golden ticket, Snackshack.

Just now, it was a teenager with a big cardboard box. He obnoxiously rang the bell 6 times then pounded on the door for good measure.

While I stood just two feet away from him in a cold-sweat panic, begging him to leave and not wake the sick, snotty and coughing baby who I had just watched struggle her way to sleep, I briefly thought of my options:

Come out brandishing a golf club and knock some blooms off the azaleas to demonstrate my seriousness?

Growl menacingly through the door (my bark is not as impressive as my quack these days. . . A duck isn't scary)?

Cock the shotgun and hope he hears it?

Unfortunately, all of these options would, of course, rouse the babe. So I stood. And prayed for him to leave.

Then, when he mercifully relented, slammed our screen door, and indignantly huffed his way through the yard, I knew immediately what I needed.

No. . . not a taser-wired Welcome mat.

Everyone has that jerk or crazy person on their street with the sign. . . depending on their mental status, its either huge and obnoxious or scrawled crazily in a hodgepodge of capital and lowercase letters with excessive punctuation.

Tonight, I join the ranks, although I'm telling myself it's with a little more grace.

If you want one, too, it's from this Etsy shop!