Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Hang on, are they taking about the same ad? wish me luck plus some emojis before slipping her phone into a hoody pocket. Curtains twitch, and before she can get her bag out of the back Mom is there, right there next to her, their hands touching on the handle as they compete for control. "It's OK Mom, I got it." Hastily she opens her FB TV app, pulls up the game. The ad is just finishing. She hits the 10-second rewind icon a couple of times, then leans the phone on its side against a ketchup bottle. "You should have let us come pick you up." "It's fine, there was no need. I didn't want to put any-" Text flashes across the screen. ALERT CANCELLED. ALL PATROLS: STAND DOWN much of a failure." Mom sighs, shoulders falling, looks at Sara directly. "I'm sorry honey." She looks old, Sara thinks, watching a resigned tiredness flicker across her face in a way she'd not noticed before. Like she's exhausted by conflict, surrendered to it. "Now, don't I get a hug?" Sara smiles. They hold each other for a few long seconds, rubbing and squeezing each other as the Lyft silently backs itself out of the driveway. When they part it's Mom's hand that's on the bag's handle. Inside she unwraps herself from scarves and layers, the heat in the house almost a shock after the cold air. Michigan in February. Mom is already halfway up the stairs, bag in tow, headed for her room. Sara finds herself in the front room, sobbing. "Honey?" "The Chevrolet ad?" "Yeah. Fine. Y'know. Same as always." He smiles back at her, nods knowingly. She falls on him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "I'm sorry Dad. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be so mean-" "It's OK, honey. It really is." "No, no it's not. We always fight. And I know that's mainly my fault-" 'Well, now, c'mon-" She straightens herself up, wipes her eyes. Suddenly feels a little self conscious. "Sure. Let me just go freshen up first." "Of course honey." Mom and Dad watch Sara leave the room, and then look at each other. "Well." "Cabs are expensive. You shouldn't be wasting your money." "Well indeed." Ad break. An elderly couple ride a tandem bicycle through a park, laughing and smiling in Instagram-perfect sunshine, as a calm, relaxing voice lists the potentially lethal side effects of a diabetes drug. "That's not what I mean. They're stealing people's jobs." "Nope." "Ed!" Mom had appeared in the doorway. "Please! Both of you. No fighting today, please." "Sheryl-" "No. I don't want to hear you two as much as disagreeing about anything today, unless it's about the game. And even then you'd better keep it civil. Otherwise you can both go hungry. Understand?" Awkward pause. "Fine." "Sorry Mom." Sara turns back to the TV, to watching the war, to trying to work out which one it is. It had always been this way, ever since she was about thirteen. Up until then it just seemed like constant warmth, as though she didn't have any childhood concept of Dad apart from him getting home from work, then her sitting on his knee, eating cookies and watching football highlights until Mom came in and scolded them both for ruining their appetites before dinner. Text flashes across the screen. ALERT CANCELLED. THREAT NEUTRALISED. So they didn't talk much now, barely online, never on the phone. Since her second year of school he'd never been to NYC to visit her. She came back when she could face it sometimes for birthdays, sometimes for Thanksgiving. Maybe for Christmas. But somehow always, like now, for the Super Bowl. Like football was the one thing they still had, that one thing they could still sit in the same room together for. Shouting at players, screaming at the ref, laughing at the ads. Dad is in the bathroom, and Sara has had enough of Fox and whichever war this is. She reaches over and grabs the remote from the arm of his chair, and tries to find something else to watch. The government had scrapped all the rules about how the internet worked, and for most people like her parents it had suddenly gotten a lot cheaper to get their TV through Facebook, so all she can find is Fox, Breitbart News, Family Values TV, Info Wars, The Rebel, Glenn Beck, The Voice of America, America First, The Bible Today "Jesus Christ Dad, these ads!" "No blasphemy at the dinner table, please honey" says Mom. "What about them?" advertising Sara looks over to Mom, who looks like she's on the brink of tears. Suddenly she finds she's also lost the will to fight. Gently she closes the iPad and puts it down on the table, next to her plate. "No, of course not Dad. Maybe I'll read this later, after the game." After dinner she helps Mom clean-up, the two of them loading the dishwasher in near silence. She's leaning against the counter, scrolling through Twitter on her phone, when Mom finally speaks. "You should go easy on your father, you know. He's worried about a lot of things." "What things? Solar panel cancer?" "Don't joke Sara, I'm serious. There's a lot that bothers him. The state of the world. The future. All these damn wars." "We're all worried about all that, Mom." "I don't know. He won't go to the doctor. Hasn't been in months. He's worried about his insurance." "I had no idea-" "Yeah, well you know your father. Doesn't like to talk about it. Doesn't want to burden other people with his problems. Hates pity." She pauses, looks out the window into the yard. When she turns back to Sara her eyes are damp. "This is why I was so excited about you coming back. Why he was so excited! I thought it'd take his mind of all this. He was so excited to see you. You know he loves watching the game with you, Sara." "And the ads! The Super Bowl ads! You know how much he loves watching the new ads with you. It's a stupid thing, sure, but he loves it. Talks about it all the time. It's like a tradition to him. That's why he got so upset over dinner when you got angry at his ads. It's something special he has with you, he doesn't want to lose it." Sara slips her phone into her pocket, genuine guilt. Feels like a spoiled kid. "I didn't realise. I'm sorry." Mom smiles, walks over and kisses her on the forehead. "It's OK honey. Don't feel bad. Just go. Just go sit in there with him and watch some TV. Please." It's the second down on the Falcon's 60 yard line with 30 yards to cover, and the Lions need one touchdown to equalise. Sara and her Dad are sat in the front room, working their way through a family sized pack of Oreos, when the ad break starts. Voiceover: They say you need to get up pretty early to get past America's finest. But the truth is we never sleep.

<question>:
Which of these is true about the ad break?

<options>:
A Sara's patience allows for some rebuilding of trust
B It's ironic that Ed things ads about things that separate people will bring him and his daughter together
C The family can agree that they all enjoy watching ads together even if other things are rough
D It is the one chance daughter and father have to patch things up

<answer>:

D