A little boy hurts his finger, runs in the house, and calls out to his mother. “Oh,” she says, “let me get a band-aid for that.” “No!” cries the boy, “Cider!” “Cider?” the mother exclaims. “What on earth do you want cider for?” “Because,” he explains, “Sis says whenever she gets a prick in her hand, she likes to put it in cider.”