My darling Julian,
I called a couple nights ago on the only phone number I have for you, by Daddy’s number, and also on the night before your first day of third grade, at both Daddy and Grandma Diane’s (Worrell). She hung up the phone after laughing and telling me to “go to court.”
I left the sweetest message, and told Daddy that if he wanted me to beg to talk to my son, that I was already doing it, with sugar, whipped cream, and a cherry on top–very nicely. I asked him, by leaving a voicemail of course, to please have you call Mommy back. But you didn’t call, so he probably never told you. You always said you were never allowed to call me from there, anyway.
I don’t know what else to do to see or talk to my own son. At least you know that I am only a phone call away, close, always close by waiting for you to come home, and for sure always thinking about you.
Your real mommy
P.S. That’s a picture of a telephone above, like the old-timey kind we played with on the old-fashioned telephone exhibit at the Children’s Museum on your birthday. Do you remember when we used to play that game, “Operator, Whose Calling, Please?” I do. That was from an older television skit on Saturday Night Live with actress, Gilda Radner. She was a famous comedienne.