When I was small, my Dad loved a Manhattan on the rocks. If I were VERY good, I would get a cherry. (Or two. Dad often gave me both of his, but my Mom needed one of hers!) So... yeah, I was always very good. When my sister came along she discovered that you did NOT have to actually be good - you still got the cherry even if you escaped from our booth or hid under someone else's table and made my parent's frantic. Or if you mimicked the quirks of the other diners, their ticks and accents. My parents actually ROARED at that. Hunh. My 12 year old self kind of though "All that time... and I couldn't gotten the cherries NO MATTER WHAT!"
It all worked out - Dad switched to a Manhattan straight up, with a twist (and rocks on the side). I'm going to have to paint that soon, too. Miss you Dad....