Your husband was an amazing man. Kind, brave, generous, literally a superhero. Clever in so many ways.

But he was still a man. Sometimes he just didn’t get stuff.

Joaquín had just gotten home from a mission, showered, ate, and slept, and now, in the quiet of the living room, was fiddling with his wings.

“Y’know, I’m thinking of doing a new paint job. I love the green and gold, but I want something flashier,” he commented, ignoring the mug you picked out for him as he sipped his coffee. And the message written on the cookie.

Okay. Plan B.

You set the box down in front of him, and you thought Joaquín was finally going to get it. He looked at the small shirt in confusion, until the cat jumped in his lap, purring.

“You got the cat some clothes? Hermosa, I don’t think he’s going to want to be called Daddy’s Co-Pilot. But I’ll try,” he said, setting the screwdriver down, and struggling to get the cat into the shirt.