He carefully places raspberries, open end up, on top of his cereal.
Then he pours honey into each raspberry. At this point, we had a conversation that went something like this:
Me: You sure have to have a lot of patience for that.
Dad: Good things come to those who wait.
Me: What happens if you miss?
Dad: I don't miss.
Here they are, honey-filled raspberries. I think dad should trademark this before Kellogg's catches wind of it. He could call them Clifberries.
This reminded dad of something that happened many years ago. He was taking baby gerkins out of the pickle hotel - I call it a pickle elevator.
As he took each one out, he would bite the end of it off and stand it on end next to the others already standing in formation on the counter like little green soldiers. After he had a nice little troop of them, he would eat them. My brother was watching him and said, "You'd drive a psychiatrist crazy."
This may seem unrelated to handicrafty sisters, but it's totally related. It has to be...somehow. What do you think?