I have a stalker. Her name is Piper Mae.

She sleeps down the hallway behind a closed door. Yet she knows my every move.

If I get up in the middle of the night, she’s by my side. “I just happened to have to go, too, Mommy,” she says. “How about a quick hug since I’m here, you know?”

In the mornings I like to wake up early and write and blog. I’m careful not to make a sound. As soon as I lift the computer screen, though, Piper bursts through the door like she’s caught me. “I saw your light!”

“But it’s a laptop screen with just a tiny bit of light? How could you possibly see it?” I protest, throwing back the covers for the morning cuddle.

“I just know, Mommy. I always know where you are.”