The Return Of Boyd

Legal Disclaimer: The Greatest formally protests the pictures in this post. I have assured him that everyone has a spot like this in their home. Having said that, here I go.

I have a confession to make. I lost Boyd. I know he was hanging out in the Christmas Tree. Then we took the tree down and he just disappeared.

I thought I'd put him in the bottom of my knitting bag, but he wasn't there. I decided that of course I would never put him that close to my knitting so he must be in my sock drawer, but alas, no Boyd. Then, realizing I wouldn't put him that close to socks in any stage of being, I deduced that I must have stashed him in my pajama drawer (a favorite place to keep things as a child). But an elaborate search through my old scrub pants and tank tops revealed no trace of that wiley circular needle.

The really ironic part is I was actually contemplating using him. I thought his naturally twisted state of being might be perfect for knitting a mobius scarf in one piece with no seam. But failing to find him I knitted it flat.

Was I sad to have lost Boyd? Maybe a little. He had spunk, and character, even though he was evil. Sure my knitting went a lot smother with no one around to change the pattern, or change my gauge, or simply unravel my work as I slept, but there was also a decided lack of excitement and danger to my knitting.

Not to mention the fact that people I actually know in real life, all three of them, kept telling me they missed Boyd. "Where's Boyd?" "What's he been up to?" "What happened to him after Christmas?" "When's he coming back?" I had no answers for them. I didn't know.

Boyd seemed rather mellow around the holidays. One could even go as far as to say he was unusually humble and contrite. I worried that in his depressed state he had harmed himself. Or finding himself no longer able to bring himself to use his powers for evil in our home, maybe he searched for greener pastures. I feared he had hitched a ride home from knitting group in Big Booty Knits' knitting bag and was now changing gauge on her pink sweater. Or maybe he mailed himself to Candsmom and was as we speak stowed in an air plane hull headed for a warmer climate. I almost missed him.

But today I needed new batteries. Bird's Baby Pooh needed new batteries, again. So I opened our junk drawer to search. A quick rifling produced no AA batteries. So I opened the drawer wider. Still no AA batteries. I tried to open the drawer wider still but it stuck. Now I know we purchased the super-mega-ultra-value pack of AA batteries with enough juice to power a small country and there was absolutely no way we had used all of them in one month. There had to be at least three left. In frustration I jerked hard on the drawer. With an audible pop it flew open and I saw this.



It's a bit like a Where's Waldo picture isn't it. I see cookie cutters, a sippy cup lid, the missing AA batteries, my cute pink drill (isn't it cute), and wait, what's that I see? Right there, between the drill and the batteries, on top of the scented oil package?



Why, yes, I do believe that's Boyd.

Stupid Boyd.

Now I know why I've had to restart that pink sweater three times in one day.

Stupid Boyd.

Changing my gauge on my pink sweater.

Stupid Boyd.

Welcome Home.