Cookies and Collarbones

My nephew cracked his collarbone in three places playing basketball. I shall call him Z-man from now on. His mom sent me pictures of his various visitors in the hospital. There was the cookie monster with him in his room, his basketball team all suited up, and his girlfriend. I'm not sure who his favorite visitor was, but at thirteen years of age, I'm guessing it wasn't the one who brought the chocolate and simple carbohydrate dessert sweets. Be well kiddo!