The Stalker

‘Sleep Mister. You’re just fine in your big boy bed.’

G looks up at me, with a look that begs me to stay next to him on the edge of his new bed, as if when I leave there will be nothing to protect him from the capacious vortex beneath him where the wild things, and God only knows what else, are.

‘You’ll be fine. Remember when you were trying to crawl out of your crib? Now you don’t have to. If you need something I’m just in the other room.’

I give his forehead a little peck and head out to the living room. I shut the door just enough so it appears closed to him, but I know if he needs to get out, it’s easily pushed open. I nestle onto the couch with my iPad (laptop still in disrepair) to do a load of internet errands. A few minutes into my work, I hear a noise from G’s room. I wait. After a few more minutes I don’t hear anything else so I assume the little man has figured out how to fall asleep in a big boy bed on his own.

After about 20 minutes of immersion into my errands (and pinterest board) I get a funny feeling…a feeling like…like I’m being WATCHED! I look up and burst out laughing when I see this:



  • What a cute story with a double cute ending. At least he’s quiet about it/ Are you hot out there?? We’re hitting 94 etc etc and no rain for a month. Grass looks like a hay field but when I hear what others are going through I’m not complaining, just HOT/ Love, GG

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