The Third Hand

The other week when I went to pick up Michael from his piano lesson, his teacher came out of the room with him and said to me, "Ask Michael what he would do with a third hand." I was a little confused, so he said, "You know, where he would attach it on his body and what he would do with it." But when I asked for clarification, he answered, "I really can't do it justice. You'll have to ask him." In retrospect, the other innocent parents there may have forced him to be circumspect. Regardless, when we got in the car, I braced myself for the worst, and asked Michael, who already had his nose in a book, "What is this about a third hand?"

Michael looked up and grinned. He told me that he would place it so that he could reach the toilet paper and wipe, and continue to hold a book without interrupting his reading while he was on the toilet.

After a moment of silence, as I was not sure how to respond, he started going through the various places he could attach it, and which one would work the best for reaching the toilet paper and wiping. He finally settled on attaching it to the end of his elbow. I had been hoping that he was going to say something about using a third hand to play the piano better, or to reach more notes, but somehow, I knew there was no chance that this was his answer. I guess I'm thankful that he's 6 and not 16, because I can think of worse places to attach and worse uses for a third hand.

I told his father that evening. His only response was, "Well, that's practical." I suppose it is.