I'm proud to say that June, age seven, made her first proper cocktails last night. (Made, not drank.) Manhattans. Two. Up. They were delicious.1
1 If I may be immodest, she had expert tutelage. Two parts bourbon. (In this case. Sometimes three. But tonight, two.) One part sweet vermouth. (She's fuzzy on the components and mostly calls everything "wine".) Stir until the outside of the shaker frosts over and makes ones fingers stick. Pour. (With the strainer handle nestled in the fork of the index and middle fingers. This is one of those details I never thought about until I taught to a seven-year-old to make a Manhattan. Key piece of info.) Cherry, of course. Sublime.