WHEN I WAS BUT A PUP …
My dear old Mum (that’s Mom, to you Yanks) used to ensure that I had a nice hot cocoa each night. No objection from me … I loved it.
I still do, in fact. So on a whim a few minutes ago I googled it—you know how it goes, everything you like these days either causes cancer or the consequent halitosis drives away the opposite (oops, the adjacent) gender* — and discovered to my utmost shock that the habit of a lifetime is actually … good for you. Apparently it does wondrous things, and I now know the difference between ‘cocoa’ and ‘cacao’. But the one thing it won’t do is put the cat out.
“Wow~! I want some …”
* Be careful here—we aren’t allowed to differentiate no more. Which is just as well ‘cos knitting purple booties is much more general purpose (covers all bases**) than either pink or blue.
** Tried it myself once. Nobody told me how to ‘cast off’ so I ended up with one sock eight feet long …