Write the right answer to the question based on the context passage.

Input: Consider Input: I never have feed a baby something that they shouldn't have but I know of an instance where someone did
A neighbor of Mine was babysitting for her granddaugther. The mother had placed a water bottle filled with VODKA in the refrigerator. The grandmother used that VODKA to fill the bottle with the powder added.
At some point after the baby wouldn't drink the bottle (because of the taste I imagine) but had drank some the Grandmother realized it was Vodka instead of WATER. She gave the baby Powdered Charcoal and the baby vomited the milk mix up. The baby was Ok and no harm done.
She was lucky to have the powdered charcoal around. It is hard to find now in the stores. When I was a child (50's-60) it was common for All medicine chests to be supplied with Charcoal. I still keep some of that in My medicine chest. I live in a rural area. It would take me 45 minutes to get to a Medical facility. An ambulance takes 14 minutes to get to my house and 45 minutes to get to a hospital.
Now I can say that I have feed babies things that are not recommended at their age. For example, If a baby is not getting full feeling off of just formula, I would make rice cereal and feed the baby that. Some babies are just to big to be satisfied on just milk. Rice is a good filler and does No harm. (like I would not use wheat cereal)
I also would give a baby warm tea when they had a stomach ache. Tea of course has caffeine in it. That would not be considered kosher. I also feed My grand daughters sweet tea. They love it. it is better than many sugary corn syrup infested drinks other chose for their children. I use 3/4 cup of sugar for every 2 gallons, so it is NOT much sugar. Question: Who gave the baby vodka?

Output: Grandmother

Input: Consider Input: Greg Tenorly drove the familiar route from the church to his music studio, studying the homes along the way. He wondered about the families who lived in each one. Like that two-story brick on the corner. What secrets were they hiding? Was the husband abusive? Did a teenager use drugs? Was the family nearly bankrupt? How could anyone know? It was better not to know. The mind can only handle so many problems at one time. He wondered where Troy and Cynthia Blockerman lived.
Greg had appeared at the courthouse that morning as part of a jury pool, only to be released. He and the rest of his group would have to return the next morning. He hoped they would not need him. The church would pay his regular part-time salary while he was serving on a jury, but any private lessons he missed would be money lost.
Greg's red 1965 Pontiac Bonneville convertible always turned heads as he drove through the small town. He had purchased it two months earlier from a career Navy man down in Longview who had babied the thing for years. It spent most of its life in the man's garage, coming out only when he was on leave. Most trips were to the car wash or the Pontiac dealer for scheduled maintenance.
Greg gladly paid $4,000 for it. The sailor called him the very next day and tried to buy it back. He said it was like losing a member of the family. Greg felt bad, but not bad enough to give up the car. How could a 40-year-old car have only 93,000 miles on it? It was dazzling.
His little studio was near the town square, nestled between Coreyville Hardware and Susie's Sewing Box. Occasionally he and a student could hear a pipe wrench or hammer hitting the floor on the hardware side. But things were always quiet from Susie's side. At least the soundproofing he had installed kept his neighbors from hearing his students. You can't teach music without hearing both beautiful sounds and sour notes. Question: Who was Greg's neigbor?

Output: Susie

Input: Consider Input: Aage Llievang tried explaining to his mother, but she shook her head. "Now, Aage. Really. Your own car? A car? What would the other co-op members think?"
"Mom, this is a classic! 1952 MG-TD. It's even--"
"British Racing green... yes, Aage. I know. Your father knows. Your grandmother knows. We all know about the car."
"But Mom, look." He waved his Handy at her. The MG glowed on its small screen. "There's one up for auction on carsforsale.com and I'm too young to bid. You've got to help me."
"Aage!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Your age is not the problem. You can't even afford it."
"I'd pay you back." How could he explain his fascination with the Vehicular Age to her? The seductive sheen, the rumble, the combustive power of automobiles called to him like a siren at sea. He coveted the sense of possibility inherent in the turn of a key.
And the MG-TD held a place high in his list of hope. British Racing Green, wood dashboard and a four-stroke engine. He had only seen one MG-TD, when he'd gone on holiday with his folks to the U.K. They had been walking down the street in downtown London. Most of the traffic had been pedestrian or cyclist. The occasional fuel-cell car glided by like a ghostly leftover from the Vehicular Age. Double-decker biodiesel buses roared past regularly, trailing the odor of fish and chips after them.
And then it came down the street toward them. A car that purred as its rounded lines soaked up the sun with a green so deep it was almost black. It pulled into the valet parking of a grand hotel and two people got out. Aage barely noticed them. He stared inside the car, where chrome and brass gleamed against a burled wood dashboard. The doors of the car shut with the heavy thunk of real metal. A valet pulled the car out of the parking circle and Aage never saw it again. Question: Who wanted to buy a 1952 MG-TD?
Output: Aage