When I was little I used to pretend to do commercials in my kitchen. I'd do commercials for grape juice, or cinnamon toast. Chocolate pudding. Recipe books. Etc. Well, one of my favorite commercials to do was an INFOmerical for "Handicapped Hand." (It really must be said that this was before the time when people determined that "disabled" was the more politically correct term, or I would never have used the word "handicapped." I am very sensitive to these things.) Anyway, Handicapped Hand was nothing more than a simple pair of tongs that I felt were an ingenious tool for people suffering from severe arthritis, or some sort of hand-related impairment. I would do demonstrations, ask people from the audience to come on stage, and sing a little theme song at the end: "Handicapped, handicapped, handicapped--hand!"
I had put Handicapped Hand behind me until two days ago, when my 3-year-old got out a spatula and said "look, it's the handy-dandy grabber!" He stared going around grabbing stuff, and talking about how amazing his invention was. It was as if he were doing a commercial of his own. It's times like these--and the fact that he won't wear anything but sweat pants--that really show me how similar we are, for better or for worse.