All Better Now

So, I woke up this morning, read my last post, and realized a couple of things...

A. If I kept writing like that I'd be suicidal before Monday, when I became besieged with other people's children, so we won't do that anymore.
B. Yesterday, that lovely baby pictured above was sitting on my lap when she gave a beautific smile, cocked her leg so that her left-hind-yab escaped her diaper, and destroyed an entire load of laundry in one cheerful grunt. That really would have made a much better post...and since I was wearing some of that laundry, it would have made some incentive for me to get out of the house and work!
C. That hat has a very funny story attached that I would not forgive myself for not writing down. (BTW--thanks for the compliment on the knitting, Roxie--but the following story will reveal why I am a dilletante at best!)

That hat, worked in sportweight yarn, has a spiral pattern created by yo/ssk (For the non-knitters, let's just say that this is a very fiddly, irritating sort of pattern to be repeated for eight inches of 3" by 3" tube on little tiny double pointed needles with purple yarn). It was about ten o'clock in the evening one June night and I was working serenely, about 6 inches into the skinniest, most minimal part of the spiral (also the most finicky bit of knitting) but taking a break to feed the adorable baby when Mate snuck into the room. Well, more like did that cartoon tip-toe thing that Scooby Doo and Shaggy used to do? I was watching television while nursing, so I didn't really pay him any attention-- always a bad move with Mate--and that's when he struck. Reaching into the top of the knitting bag with the hat, he snatched one of the double pointed needles with live stitches on it and PULLED IT OUT and retreated to the back bedroom, leaving me, pinned to the couch by a nursing infant moaning "THOSE WERE LIVE STITCHES!!! WHAT DID I EVER TO DO YOU?" I kept this up, mouth opening and closing in stunned outrage, until Mate sheepishly slunk back and stuck the dpn back in the bag. I handed him the burping baby and tried (and failed--you can see the spot where I failed and just gave up and 'fixed' the stich count) to re-insert the needle where it belonged, saying "What in the hell were you thinking--you've always been so supportive of my knitting...why would you try to crush my little soul like that?"

"I'm sorry." He said with a terrible wince. "I lost the stylus to my pda, and I'd seen you working with those and I thought 'that would be perfect'"

"Well, was it?"

"Oh, yeah...worked like a charm..."

"Well I've got two dozen of those things that aren't currently working with LIVE STITCHES!!!"

"Yeah...I'm sorry...next time I'll use one of those..."

Good answer, Mate!


D. And now a very funny school story...

Every year I give a talk I call 'Don't get knocked up during prom.' Yes, this could get me fired...I'm very aware of this, but I've had so many kids come up and say "Thank you, Ms. Mac." that I think it's worth the risk. (Remember--if we don't pay our attention bills, Satan repossesses our children.) Anyway, the very first 'Don't get knocked up during prom' speech had the bad timing to be given right after a talk about Byron--you remember, the famous poet who was exiled from English society after doing everything with two and three knees and who finally knocked up his half-sister? (Everybody say EWWWW! EWWWWWWW!) But that didn't stop me... bravely I launched into 'Don't get knocked up during prom.' And it went very well--the feedback from the kids was good natured and mostly positive, and the talk was winding down when Pete Sanchez burst out 'Yeah--and man, make sure you change the rubbers in your wallets, because those things expire--I didn't know that!' And suddenly everybody, including me, was laughing so hard we were darned close to wetting our pants. The laughter was finally dying down... and I almost had a handle on the class again, when a girl who had been up at the office for most of the period came back in and, reading the 'down to giggles' mood of the room, she looked around and said, "What'd I miss?"

I smiled and replied, "I just gave a little talk--'Don't get knocked up during prom'."

She nodded soberly and said, "That's not going to be a problem--I'm going with my cousin."

Remember Byron? We laughed until the bell rang, and the poor girl never did understand what set us off...