When I was a kid, we were poor. I wouldn't say we were dirt-poor, but that's only because we couldn't afford dirt. Mama was good at making sure us kids were pretty well insulated from it though. I didn't actually know how poor we were until I was in high school. But I always knew there were some things that were rare treats to be savored and enjoyed to the fullest.
For me, the king of treats was chocolate milk. Oh, Hershey, how I do love your syrup. Especially when mixed generously with ice cold milk. I always used one of those big ol' Granny table spoons. The kind that held alot more than a tablespoon. And after a vigorous stir to make sure none was wasted by being stuck on the bottom of the cup, I would use that big spoon to sip the sweet elixir so it would last as long as possible.
Yeah, I know - it sounds goofy in the telling. But a few minutes ago, I heard a slurping sound from across the room as my little Princess enjoyed her chocolate milk exactly the way I did at her age. I know I've never had chocolate milk with her before. Apparently, some things are just hereditary.
I wonder if the scientists investigating the human genetics have figured out which gene is the chocolate milk gene yet.