Thursday, June 10, 2010

boy scarf

Imagine the delight if you will, for a knitting Mother, when her 5 year old son decides of his own volition, that the time has come for him to embark on his first (of many -hopeful) forays into knitting. Yes, it's the stuff of dreams I know. He implored that we must go forth
immediately to 'Knit world' so that he could pick out the exact type of soft, bright sky blue wool he had in mind. He was vehement about these details in the way children are and repeated them too many times over.

Continue imagining then, the pride and joy of wool shopping with the 5 year old first timer, the luck to happen across the perfect blue wool with just a smidgen of smokey grey woven within. He ...'was actually looking for one with a bit of grey in it too, you know!' he declared this at decibels loud enough to melt the hearts of all the old ladies abound.

The choosen wool was Patons Inca x 3 balls. That evening we cast on a simple 24 stitches with 7 mm needles and in a knit 2, purl 2 forming rib went about our merry way over several weeks until it was 1.5 metres long. Did I say merry way... errmm not quite...

I was determined that because he had committed to learning to knit and because I had invested in the wool, that I would only knit following a stint of him knitting also. That said, sitting and knitting with him meant that at times I was actually holding and moving his hands for him. If he held the needles himself it was akin to watching Andre The Giant attempt cross stitch or watching the Tin Man do yoga. His wee arms were like concrete and his fingers would get the wobbles and shake so he slipped stitches and he breathed very loudly with his tongue out! Yes, it was painfully slow. I think in the end he may of tallied up a modest 10 rows in total and after he had done his bit, he would always say that it was my turn to knit while he was in bed or while he was at school.
Imagine still, the slight disappointment when he announced upon the completion of the epic scarf, that he would only be wearing it in the weekends. Meaning he didn't want to wear it to school. And then in the weekends, it was always too warm to need to wear it. And I think he may have mentioned the dreaded word ITCHY.

But at least now when he is engrossed in watching me knit, I know that there is a new found appreciation for the kind of dedication and commitment and patience it requires. And that my friends, made it all well worth it.