Like father, like daughter

I couldn't help but notice dad was wearing one glove when he came to pick me up from Kenton's for family dinner tonight in good old Northern VA. What's with the single glove, padre? "That damned devil knife again. It's too sharp! I was just cutting a watermelon and...."

Turns out dad doesn't have a great track record with sharp knives, either. At least his are labeled. He peeled back the glove to show me the injury. Kept the band-aid on, though: not long til dinnertime, after all.

Are these things genetic? (Same thumb and everything!) I wonder what I've inherited from my mother's half of the chromosomes....