Yesterday, the girls and I headed over to Travel Health Provider for anti-malarial prescriptions and Erin's Typhoid vaccine. (She is taking an every-other-day dose of live vaccine that will inoculate her for the next five years. Besides, it's amusing to have Typhoid in the refrigerator.) As we headed down the road, Middle Child piped up to inform me that she saw me earlier in the day. She said, "Mackenzie and I were running during Cross Country and when we got to our big lap I saw a way too familiar shirt up ahead of us. I was like, 'Oh, no. There's my MOM! She's, like, stalking me.' And Mackenzie said, 'Remember during Track when my mom would come park in the car and sit there staring at us while we ran?' And then, we were, like, 'Now, we both have Stalker Moms!'" Ignoring my glare, she paused for breath before asking, "Who were you with? I didn't recognize that lady but she was really little."
Um. Silly girl, that was Walker. Exercise buddy extraordinaire for over a year?! And who was she calling a stalker? Walker and I have been covering that same route since our family moved into New House in March. The Cross Country team has only been meeting since August 23rd. As soon as we got home, I had Walker on speed dial so she would know that she'd been called "Little!" by my twig of a teen. Because not being fat is one of our stated goals. Being called a stalker? Not so much. Makes a mom want to stand out at the middle school with a camera like a big dork. Then we can talk about Stalker Moms.