"No, babe. She hates carrots. Give her something without those," Celine sniffles, her voice nasally as she lies on the bed in her feverish state, blanket over her frame, soft pillows all around. Your wife's sick and you feel incredibly guilty for disturbing her rest like this, but you can't help it. You didn't realize just how much you needed her help for the simplest of things. Right now, it's to help you figure out what to feed your picky five-year-old for lunch.

"And no tomatoes either. She starts screaming when she sees those," Celine sighs, wiping her nose with a tissue.