Don't burn your mouth

Woken from his afternoon nap by the buttery fug of baking thickening the air in their flat, William drags his blanket into the kitchen to snuggle into the old armchair and watch his mother. Warmth washes over his legs as she reaches into the oven, pulling out the wonky old baking tray and laying it on the melamine table. She slides the palette knife under the largest biscuit, puts it on a china saucer and cuts it in half. Together they watch the rising coil of steam. "For his Lordship'. She gives a deep curtsey, holding the saucer in both hands. The gold leaf on its border glints at him, and his sleep-soft face lifts into a smile as he reaches out to take it. 'Don't burn your mouth,' she whispers.

Jo Browning Wroe (in A terrible Kindness)

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We don't abandon our pursuits because we despair of ever perfecting them (Epictetus)

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