We had one of those magical moments this morning, when I wish I had a camera but I know a camera would capture none of it.
My Patient Husband took the Kiddos to shovel snow (ostensibly to help; not sure how much help took place) and when they returned inside, everyone had hot chocolate while my Patient Husband finished up with the snow blower.
Ivy has been sending me email instructions on how to knit socks, so I was working on that. And as the kids finished their hot chocolate, something strange happened. First Kiddo#2 went off to her room and found her skein of yarn from when she was learning to crochet. And then Kiddo#1 got out the scarf he’s been working on since last winter. A minute after, Kiddo#3 was sitting at the table too, playing with some pieces of yarn by cutting them with the school scissors.
For about two minutes, everyone was quiet, sticking hooks or needles into yarn and nothing else. My Patient Husband (who wants nothing to do with yarn) came in and took in the scene, but he didn’t say anything.
It didn’t last long. Kiddo#2 got frustrated and then Kiddo#3 wanted to watch TV, so she asked to join him. Kiddo#1 stuck with it for a couple more rows, and then I had to put down the sock-in-progress to fold laundry (ironically, a basket of socks.)
Just for those minutes, though, it was silence and parallel yarn-work, and that was really neat.
My grandmother learned to knit during the war. Her best friends all had to knit for an hour after lunch, and one day their mother told her to run home and get some needles and wool. (I guess Great-Grandma wasn’t a knitter.) Grandma was a wonderful and productive knitter and crocheter; I always had mitts and hats and vests and slippers. Mom knit Dad three pairs of socks a year. Yep, I knit too; I need something in my hands when watching TV, and daughter, 6, has knit a few row on a scarf for her doll. As a student, I used to do from the ankles to the arch, to wear in my boots that had the lining worn out in that area. It’s a great hobby!