The pathos!

Yesterday afternoon I came back to my desk to find a missed call on my mobile. I dialled my voicemail and the nice lady from Vodafone told me that I had ... ONE ... new message.

Then, after a pause, I heard the voice of a small child of indeterminate sex: "Em ... hi, Dad, it's me. I'm just ringing to ask if you'll be coming home tonight. OK, bye."

I rang the number back, hoping that there'd be an adult there so I could explain what had happened. But no.

Small Child of Indeterminate Sex: Hello?
Radegund: Oh, hi ... um, you rang my phone just now, but I think you were looking for your dad, and I think you dialled the wrong number.
Small Child of Indeterminate Sex: (perhaps a little upset) Oh ... OK ... bye. *click*

So I'm picturing the scene:

Mildly Manipulative Mother: Why don't you ring your dad, sweetheart, and ask him if he's coming home tonight.
Small Child of Indeterminate Sex: OK.
*child leaves; time passes; child comes back*
Mildly Manipulative Mother: So, did you ring him, pet?
Small Child of Indeterminate Sex: Yes. But I had to leave a message. *looks at floor* And then a lady rang back and said he wasn't there ... I think.
Mildly Manipulative Mother: Is that so?

Call me Radzer the Home-Wrecker!