I mean, I've had dreams where I could crochet, but when I wake up, I look over at my knitting needles and think how happy I am with them.
I'd never purposefully cheat.
Maybe a DC here and there, maybe a surreptitious reading of the crochet instructions in my big books of crafts. Maybe a longing look at some brightly colored ripple afghans, or some sturdy wool potholders.
The last thing I need is another monkey on my back, the juggling of hooks, the added projects. But then I see a granny square or a cute amigurumi-- my mouth starts to water, and my fingers start itching.