Dear Freddie,
By the time you find this letter hopefully I will be on a bus to California. That's why I put the letter on the kitchen counter with the diapers. I figured you'd never notice it. Ha!
Anyway the reason why I'm leaving is because I can't do this anymore. I have always wanted to be a model and actress. I hadn't planned on being a mom to a bunch of kids, and I didn't plan on adopting a bunch of kids in addition to having one and ruining my waistline. So much for my dream of being a sports illustrated swimsuit model.
Anyway again, I'm leaving. Take care of the kids and the baby. Wish me luck in Hollywood! Sorry. Smooches, Sarah
Freddie was reading the letter while holding the baby. He could hear the kids running around in the living room. He didn't want to know what it looked like now.
"Alfie hit me!" Polly yelled. "I don't appreciate that!"
"Shut up!" said one of the other kids, he knew not who.
Freddie was aghast as he let the letter slip from his hand. His wife Sarah had just up and left him. How could she do that? On top of that she left him all seven of their kids.
Unbelievable!
She could have at least taken one or two of them with her.
The baby started to fuss but Freddie didn't pay attention. He looked around the room. There was a basket of laundry. He didn't know if it was clean or dirty. Toys were everywhere. Dishes piled in the sink.
And the kids. The kids. Polly, Stella, Eloise, Quinn, Brielle, Alfie and the baby who was only two weeks old and hadn't been named yet. All of them, running buck wild from the kitchen to the living room. The yelling was enough to destroy his eardrums.
Then the baby started crying, right before she threw up on Freddie's last clean shirt.
He just wanted to cry. What the hell happened to his life?