Sometimes I yearn for the past, back before children's books about handicaps were all politically correct namby-pamby BS about how everyone is the same even if they look a little different. Back in the day, you could buy a book about a boy who's dad has had just about enough of him sticking his hand in the family sausage grinder, so he drags him down to the local hardware store to meet a creepy old WWII vet who can teach him a thing or to about sticking your arm into dangerous places, like Nazi-occupied France. And back in 1974, they sure understood it was important not to skimp on the details:

And then, just in case awkwardly discussing the one-armed man's feelings over boxes of wood screws and hanging extension cords doesn't really have the gravitas you'd hoped it would, you seal the deal by making your son act like a man: you make him shake the hook.

Matthew won't be putting his hand in the sausage grinder anymore, I reckon.