911 Operator: Hello, 911. What is your emergency?
Me: I think I am being followed!
911: Are you in a safe location?
Me: Yes, or I should be. I'm home!
911: In the house?
Me: He's coming down the hallway! I hear him breathing and moving. He's close!
911: Can you lock the door?
Me: Yes, but then he'd cry, I think.
Hahaha... of course my stalker is my baby. Gone are the days of slipping out of hte living room to go potty really quickly without him moving away from the toy he was banging on. Now, since he's also got a raging case of good old separation anxiery, he lets out a quick, anxious yelp and then doggedly pursues me on all fours.
Poor little guy... he's a good crawler considering he's only been doing it aobut 2 weeks, but he's still slow, and obviously much slower than me when I am darting about putting away laundry and generally trying to stave back UTTER chaos in the house (not like the house has been close to really clean since, um... probably when Carter learned to crawl, but I do try to keep some semblance of hygiene here). So anyway, he gets 60% of the way to me, then I zip past him in the other direction. He turns and continues in the world's slowest chase, undeterred, and not even complaining. Eventually I decide I've accomplished enough and that it's time to pick him up, of course, and it's sooner than it might be for some people, since I think the little guy is pretty adorable and deserves to be rewarded for being such a great baby by getting what he wanted, which was just to be in my arms or for me to sit and play with him.
I am enabling my stalker, I guess, haha.
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