Tucker's other mother

In crowded restaurants, populated beaches, and occupied airport gate waiting areas when I am completely watching him if Tucker walks away from my immediate side, his other mother, Hudson, bellows out an alarm warning system, "BABY ON THE LOOSE!!!" Every time the same words. Every time the same strangers' stares. Every time the same embarrassment. 

I am naturally annoyed because Tucker is never more than 6 feet from me, but also because when you say, "Baby on the loose," not to mention scream it, I picture some little child with belts of ammo criss cross his or her body, bandana on, tattoos visible, wandering crazily in the path of a moving train. Not my little Tucker, whose smile behind his paci, lets me know that he is just testing to see how far I will let him go.

Or I imagine my own little Tucker looking just like he does here after a day on the beach, airing out his bum, and most definitely a "baby on the loose."