My daughter goes for a sleepover party. It’s not her first yet still, the house feels odd without her.
The phone rings at 10:30 at night.
I wait as I watch with big eyes as my husband picks it up: hope nothing’s wrong.
He seems weird on the phone and says just a minute, hands it over to me.
“They asked for Mommy.”
My eyebrows go up.
I take the phone and say hello.
“Who is this?!” the grown woman asks crabbily. When I tell her, she says she wants Joanna. I tell her she has the wrong number.
The sleepover goes wonderfully.