A Stranger Story

Yesterday, my son opened the door for a complete stranger while I was in the shower.  I know, I should have had this talk with him earlier, but I didn't think he could operate the deadbolt.  (Besides, we haven't had a random afternoon visitor since 2006.  Unless you count my mother, which I don't, because she lives across the street.  It's like Everybody Loves Raymond up in here.)
So my kiddo announced, "Someone's at the door and I don't know him.  Want to come see if you do?"  Now, I was shampooing my hair at this very moment, so here were my options:

1)  Have my son stay in the bathroom with me and lock the door behind him.  Thereby leaving the random stranger to push open the screen door, walk into our living room, and rob us blind. (Inciting a very big "I told you not to leave the laptop on the coffee table" from the husband.)  And what would I do if he made his way to the bathroom?  Shove a tampon in his mouth and blow-dry him til he burned?
2)  Launch my wet, soapy self out of the shower and into the living room in nothing but a towel.  However, my track record (read: family history of zero coordination) indicates that I would have broken an ankle upon exiting the shower in such a hurried, slippery manner.  And where would that leave us?  Right back at #1.  Though in this scenario I spray his eyeballs with my Ultimate-Freeze-bad-for-the-ozone-aerosol hairspray.  Poorman's mace.
3)  Instruct my son to return to the living room and close the door in this stranger's face.  Whereupon this dude would have every opportunity to steal my adorable, yet normally anti-social, kiddo.  (Seriously?  I have to endure lengthy parent-teacher conferences because my kid won't deign to speak to another child at preschool, but hey!  Welcome to our home, potential serial killer!)

Because none of the above are remotely acceptable (and all scream "parenting failure"), I will only admit that my solution involved a combination of all three.  Thankfully, the person at our door was just a kid wanting to shovel our driveway.  (Who will no doubt come back on a regular basis, due to the half-naked woman pressed against the picture window trying to get a look at the person's face who may or may not have tried to steal her baby.)
Everyone learned a lesson here: my son now knows that the world is not full of sunshine and roses and sane people... and I should stash a semi-automatic weapon under the bathroom sink.