Honey, I know you said you never wanted to hear from me again, on account of the fact that I keep endangering our children’s lives by repeatedly shrinking/expanding them with my electromagnetic shrinking machine, but I am sending you this email anyway, asking you one last time to please take me back.

Before you respond, you should know that, just in case your answer is still no, I have taken the extra precaution of once again shrinking our children, placing them in a well-ventilated box, and stashing them away in a remote location, the whereabouts of which are known only to me. Don’t worry, I’ve left them with enough food to last several weeks, which in this case is a bottle cap of water and a couple of croutons, seeing as though they’re only six millimeters big.

Look, honey, I know we’ve had our ups and downs over the years, like the time I accidentally shrunk the kids and the neighbors’ kids down to the size of ants and threw them out with the garbage, and they had to find their way back to the house by trekking through the backyard, where they were nearly eaten by insects, drowned by the sprinklers, and decapitated by the lawnmower. Or there was the time I accidentally blew up our newborn son to the size of a skyscraper, and he went around terrorizing the city of Las Vegas (though you have to admit it was pretty cute when he ripped off the giant guitar from the Hard Rock Café and started holding it like a baby rock star). And then there was the time I slept with one of my lab assistants, but that’s neither here nor there right now.

Think of all the good times we’ve had together, honey, like when we went to Honolulu for our tenth anniversary. Okay, sure, I snuck my portable shrink ray into my luggage and accidentally shrunk us down while hiking Diamond Head, and we got stuck on a banana leaf for nearly two days, but, in the end, didn’t that just bring us closer together? Besides, who else gets to experience beautiful Hawaii so up close and personal?

What I’m trying to say, honey, is that I love you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. I’ll stop leaving my dirty shoes at the backdoor, I’ll take you out to fancy restaurants more often, and I’ll even stop shrinking and/or expanding the children with my shrink ray (after this one last time, of course).

I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’ve left me with no other options. Desperate times call for desperate measures, like reducing your children to a third of the diameter of a dime and holding them hostage in a discreet location to save your marriage. If you ever want to see the kids again, all you have to do is contact your lawyer and have him call off the divorce proceedings. Then have him put in writing that “I, Diane Szalinski, who is of sound mind, and is not being extorted with the lives of her shrunken children, promise never to leave my husband, Wayne Szalinski.” As soon I get word from my attorney’s office that all the papers have been signed, I’ll boot up the old shrink ray and have the kids back to their normal sizes before you can say “I swear to God if you involve our children in your little science experiments one more time I’m taking them to my sister’s place and never speaking to you again.” Easy peasy!

As far as I see it, there are two ways of looking at this situation. One is that it’s yet another example of the so-called “erratic and reckless behavior” that caused you to leave me in the first place. Another is that it’s a testament to just how much I love you. Call me a hopeless romantic (God knows I’ve been called worse, like a “mad scientist” or a “terrible father”) but I choose the second option.

Honey? Babe? Sweetheart? Do the right thing, okay?

Your loving husband, Wayne