When I was finished writing, Helen handed the paper to her friend and said "Here, take this. That way, when you're older and don't know how to call me, you can remind yourself." I died of cute.
That afternoon, G's mom reported to me that she had a history of throwing away his little tidbits of artwork and scribbles. Aware of this history, G was protecting the number with his life and told her she could never throw it away. NEVER!
We both died of cute.