I've been knitting. Just a little. A few stitches here. A few stitches there. Later when I have more time I'll tell you about Mission Possible. The short version is you pick 12 projects that are lingering about and finish them in the next 12 months. I'll give you a rundown of my 12 chosen projects later, but for now all you need to know to understand my final point is the grey hat.
The grey hat. The dreaded grey hat. I've been working on this hat since last fall. I've frogged it and re-started more times than I care to count. The hat is a gift so until it is gifted I don't want to get into more specifics than that for now. But the project is the bane of my existence.
Over the weekend I had a brilliant stoke of genius and realized how to accomplish what I want to do with the hat. I've been trying one technique. I've been beating my head against the wall trying to knit the hat a certain way. I had it in my mind that the hat must be knit one way. When I realized there was a simpler, easier way to do what I was trying to do I was thrilled, and relieved. I can finally finish the hat.
So I've been knitting on the grey hat. A few rows here, a few rows there. It is a painstakingly long process. It isn't like when you get to sit down and spend a solid hour knitting and at the end of the hour you have six inches of knitting to show for your endeavors. Instead my progress has been glacial. But I'm almost done with the knitting (the finishing will take just as long, but that is a separate topic). I was six rows of crown decreases from being done. Then I set my knitting down to nurse the baby.
I should have known better. I should have tried to finish the hat while I nursed. But I have the new Fablehaven book (Thanks Dad) and I've declared nursing time to be reading time. I should have known better than to leave my hat on the couch. I'll consider this lapse in judgement to be induced by sleep deprivation. Blissfully I rocked and nursed and read unaware of the horrors that were taking place in the other room.
Lest the blame fall on her, Bird interrupted my peace to tattle-tale.
"Meaty has your pointy things!"
"You mean my knitting needles?"
"MEATY PUT DOWN MY KNITTING!"
Again I returned to my rocking and nursing and reading. I figured he had picked up my hat, maybe tried it on. He's a big boy. And he knows better. What harm would he have really caused to my knitting.
It was so much worse than I imagined.
After the baby was nursed and in bed I folded two loads of laundry. I put a new load in the washing machine. I washed the dinner dishes. With fifteen minutes to go before bedtime and Sweet Pea still napping mercifully quiet in her crib I decided to steal a few minutes to knit.
That's when I found it.
My poor knitting.
What had they done to you?
Meaty had removed the needles from the hat. The needles were lying on the other side of the couch. Several rows had been ripped out. The yarn was a knotty mess. He knew better than to do that to my knitting.
I could have cried.
I could have yelled.
I could have killed one small boy who was sitting quietly in the corner watching me with huge eyes, waiting for me to punish him.
Instead I sighed.
That's all I have the energy to do.
I could have cause him bodily harm had I had more functioning brain cells.
Instead I sighed.
He is one lucky boy indeed.
Still not believing his luck he went quickly to bed with no protest at all.
The entire affair was not without a silver lining.