My eldest girl was sick and you were concerned. It was just a cold, I assured you. I could hear the worry in your voice. You wanted to come over and help me, you’re an Aunty, it’s your job, didn’t I get that? You didn’t understand that it would take me over an hour round trip to pick you up and bring you back here, and that the kids needed to sleep. And that I was actually fine and just wanted to go to bed.
Finally, I convinced you that you could help me more by being on the other end of the phone.
Your parting advice: “Potatoes. Feed her potatoes.”