Having complained to my wife that I did not eat lunch yesterday because nobody at home made a lunch for me to take to work, my daughter responded with all the goodness in her heart and prepared for me a most excellent meal, put it on a plate, wrapped it in plastic and sealed it with masking tape.
I am presently seated at my desk enjoying my daughter's culinary efforts.
On the menu:
one blueberry jam sandwich, extra jam
a stick of white cheese
Capri-Sun grape drink
I recall the last time she made lunch for me. It was another sandwich. Peanut butter and ham.