My Long Lost Twin

I think I met my long lost fraternal twin separated-at-birth last year. Not really, but maybe mom has a few questions she should answer.

I went with my son to buy a used car and the guy that sold it to us was filling out the paperwork with his left hand.

"Oh, you're left-handed," I say. "Me too."



"Well, technically, they say I'm ambedextrous, but there are really only two things I do with my left hand. Write and eat."


"You are kidding me," I say, "those are the exact two things I do left-handed."


"Yeah, when I was a kid," he said, "they tried to give me left-handed baseball gloves, but I kept putting them on my right."


"That is really weird." I am getting a little freaked now. "They used to try to get me to use left-handed scissors, but I kept going up and exchanging them for the rights."

"I also bat right-handed," he said.

"Me too!"

Oh, and did I tell you, this guy had red hair? Not quite as bright as mine, but red nonetheless and he looked to be my exact same age.

I left the car lot with Ricky Ricardo echoing in my head, "Mom, you got some splainin' to do."

So...me being a smarty pants and a genuine pain in the butt, when John came home, decided to torture him a little. This is a sport I practice often and get a good deal of satisfaction out of. I do get bored during the day, after all. So I ask him, "Honey, we've been married a long time. What are the two things I do left-handed?"

"Uhhh..."

I raise my eyebrow, hands on hips, foot tapping.

"This is not going to end well for me," he says.

I give him a hint, "It's the two most important things you do. One of them is the reason I have to sit at a particular spot when we go to a restaurant."

He started guessing everything except the two things. I was getting tired of playing this game and actually a little hurt by this time, so I let him off the hook and told him.

I turned to walk away.

He hates it when I walk away mad, so he blurts, "What do I do left-handed?" He asked me in a very nah-nah-nah-nah-nah tone. He thought I would say, "Nothing" because that is what he truly believed.

"You drink your coffee left-handed," I growl.

His jaw hit the floor. "I do drink my coffee left-handed," he realized.

I lick my finger and make a floating 1 in the air. Then I pretend erase it, lick my finger again, and make an invisible 100 in the air. BURN!!

A BIT OF TRIVIA

When I was in Florida last year, Grandpa Peanut, notices me eating with my left hand and says, "Did you know that about half of the U.S. Presidents have been left-handed?"

"Really?"

"So left-handed people must smart," he says. He is the sweetest, big huggy bear.

When I got home, I looked it up and, sure enough, 6 of the 12 presidents since the end of WWII, including Obama, have been left-handed.

Not only that, but in 1992, all three of the contenders were left-handed. So, Bill Clinton, George Bush, and Ross Perot were all up there at their podiums, writing with their left hands. Cool!

The reason that this wasn't noticed until the end of WWII was that kids used to get cracked on the knuckles for writing with their left hands and forced to switch to the right. I actually remember teachers trying to get me to write with my right and this was as late as 1968.