Monday, August 24, 2009


I am left-handed. The lovely husband is right-handed (but his father is left-handed). We have no real hints yet as to which side L will favor but E has been right-handed from the beginning. At first this irrationally disappointed me. Being left-handed is one of those things that sets me apart; I hoped she'd share that with me. However: life will be easier for her as a person who doesn't struggle with the direction of doorknobs or the instincts to veer into opposing traffic. Her scissors skills are already better than mine. When she practices her writing her letters the evidence of her handiwork doesn't wipe away on the side of her hand.

And yet.

But last week E began a new habit that redeems her other-handedness entirely. She's discovered that we can each do [something] and still hold hands with each other. Her favorite instance of this occurs in the mornings, in the bathroom. Her daddy and sister have always gone downstairs first. She and I get dressed and we brush our teeth before we go downstairs. She on her blue stool with her princess toothbrush in her right hand, me on the bathmat with my generic boring adult toothbrush (soft bristles only) in my left hand, brushing our teeth and watching ourselves in the mirror, our respective non-dominant sides brushing against each other. So we take those weaker appendages and intertwine them. I brush and we hold hands and she brushes.

Dental hygiene and a little extra morning love. I guess she can be right-handed.

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