“Mari.. Mum has a hang-over… could you get her an advil?”

“But mommy, you said hang-overs were only presents that Santa Claus gave good mommy’s on holidays! Is today a holiday?” Marianne resembled a cocker spaniel when she was confused- with her golden curls and pumped up nose- and if her mother was fully functional, the woman would have praised the little girl for her pure adorablitiy.

Mrs. Andy, however, had nothing but prescription drugs on her mind.

“Today is uhh… secret holiday of advils…” She rubbed her eyes irritably, “Good little girls celebrate by getting their mommy some medicine.”

“Mommy, medicine isn’t a present… It’s yucky,” Marianne wrinkled her nose in a deliberately cute fashion, she stomped her foot, but her mother slouched indifferently.

It was Marianne’s professional opinion, at that point, that her mother might actually need the medicine. She was about to fetch it, like a child who has lost her other purpose, but stopped at the ringing of the doorbell…