knitted bliss

Never, in a million years, did I expect these words to come out of my child's mouth:


"I am obsessed with knitting."

And you know what?  He pretty much is.  I'm thrilled about this on several levels, not least of which is that the first time or two I tried to teach him were most decidedly unsuccessful.  For my dexterity challenged son, this is a huge accomplishment, and I'm proud to say that he has more than risen to it.  Given what a lousy teacher his mother is, his feat was even more momentous.


Not wanting to stop there, we decided to teach Ama how to knit too.  We spent several lovely hours in front of the fire on a chilly Easter morning just...knitting.


Callum really wanted the whole family to be knitting, but alas, this is as far as Neel got.  (And really, why "alas"?  He was bitching and moaning the whole way.  Much better to keep his hands free to poke the fire.)


Despite the inevitable tangles, I couldn't be happier.  It's thrilling to hear him say, "Oh good!  We can knit while we watch the basketball game!"  And as we were reading The Phantom Toolbooth last night, I looked down to see his hands trying each gesture, his index fingers as needles.  It's more than just the knitting really, it's this boy getting his fingers to do the little things he wants them too.


Of course none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of our noble friend.