So a thing about taking care of kids (so just being a person) is that sometimes you catch gnarley stomach flus that have you voming things you didn't even know were inside you every 20 minutes.
And then you find out, again, that the dude you're with rules. Cause he takes care of you like a champ.
And then you give him the vomit death flu.
And then you can't take care of him because you still have it. And so your 75 year old pops hobbles into a cab and brings him the above care package purchased by your mom after a baller Zabars run.
Not pictured here: Near a gallon of Arties Chicken Soup, arguably the best chicken soup.
umm...the people in my life...
I am an optimist.