Some people enjoy sports. Some people enjoy photography. My dad enjoys fixing things. If it's broken, there's a good chance he can fix it. Over Thanksgiving, the Jack-in-the-Box that I had as a child was not working properly. Despite the fact that it looked rather creepy, and I am amazed that I didn't grow up with some clown phobia, it was entertaining my toddler nieces. Until it broke. It kept getting stuck and wouldn't pop out (a blessing, in my opion). Dad opened it up, checked the rubber band, sprayed some adhesive, all the while explaining his thought process of what might work and what might create more problems. We got to see the music mechanism, and how it triggered the lid. He struggled with figuring out the perfect adhesive to grip the metal post but not so much that it would stick. When he was all done and the box glued back together, that 1970s toy worked just like new. And the trauma of scary clowns can continue for many years thanks to my dad.