I am left handed.  A fact which causes me to experience an inordinate amount of pride.  I do not know why the use of my left hand would cause me to be proud.  Of my seven children, exactly zero of them are left handed.  This is because Sparky has a much purer gene pool than I do, coming from a long line of French-Canadians who can date their family back to the Original French Persons who came over in the 1600's.

I, to have a long personal ancestral Canadian history, being a seventh generation Canadian on my father's end of things. However, it would appear that my family was considerably less discerning regarding the ethnicity and European culture which they married into.  Sparky’s ancestors had the good sense to marry within the confines of their own ethnic group without too many exceptions and therefore all of our children have brown eyes and are right handed.  It also made it possible for some energetic relative who studies genealogy to discover recently the his line is a directly descended line from King St. Louis IX.  Which, compared with lefthandedness, perhaps should be worthy, at least of no small pride.

This news, which came at Easter, has left me feeling even more left out of my offspring's genetic code than usual.  They come from a royal line, a saint, even.  I do not.  I am of a line of nominally and perhaps even sometimes unholy commoners.  Polly thoughtfully pointed out that I am exactly like Kate Middleton.