Hazards of Knitting With A Toddler 

Mom: Reed, did you do something with that purple scarf I just finished?

Reed: (Innocently) No.

This is how bath time went at our house last night. Here I was, wrapping up the day, getting ready for bed time stories and pre-plotting the forthcoming blog post in my head to speed things up once Reed fell asleep. I was going to write a post about my Summer Bucket List of Must Knits.

Then this happened.

My newly finished Architexture scarf, freshly unpinned from blocking, had disappeared. Only an hour before, I had brought it inside from drying, quickly took two seconds and tried it on over my shoulders in the mirror, noting my own quite-pleased-with-myself smirk, folded it up neatly, and set it on top of the computer on my “desk*.” I didn’t think anyone else in the house had even noticed, and if they did, they surely didn’t say anything (for example, exclamations of that’s gorgeous! Or, you finally finished that thing. Wow. You’ve been working on it since before Watergate.**)

Now it was gone.

At least I thought it was gone. I was immediately overwhelmed by that sensation you get when your purse full of cash has been stolen and you just realized how incredibly screwed you are. It’s a horrible feeling. I quickly checked my other knitting spot in the hall closet, in case I had stashed it there and forgotten in the flurry that is my brain. This kind of thing happens to me all the time. Like, when I frantically search for my sunglasses in a total and utter fit of frustration and cussing, only to find them on top of my head. Happens. All. The. Time.

Even before cocktail hour.

Architexture was nowhere to be seen.

I immediately thought of Reed. I checked under Fort #1 (Behind the Couch). Not there.

I checked under newly constructed Fort #2 (Under the kitchen table). Not there.

At this point, I am thinking Reed probably would have thought Architexture, all 800 fingering weight yards of the dratted thing, would have made a pretty fabulous rescue rope. I am also thinking of that pair of kid scissors that was recently floating around one of his forts. My pulse was through the roof. I searched high and low. Under the trampoline. In his toy bins.

It was nowhere.

I returned to the bathroom, where Mr. Innocent was still happily splish splashing away.

Reed, have you seen my scarf?

No mom, I haven’t. Wasn’t me.

Reed, are you sure? Did you put it anywhere?

This little game of cat and mouse went on for some time. Me accusing. Reed denying. Until finally he gave me his first clue.

 I didn’t put it my bedroom.

So of course I scurried right out of that bathroom and into his bedroom.

Thank you Mother Earth, forgive all my sins, I am newly and forever faithful. There it was. In the corner of the closet. (Now, forgive the disastrous state of the closet. Reed and I share one. It’s only three-feet wide. That’s a story for another day. But there it was, still nicely folded, right in the corner. See it?)

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The dear child hadn’t even “rescued” anything with it.  Architexture hadn’t been twisted or tied from the curtain rod to be used in some sort of Tarzan replica animal-rescue plot. The scissors had not been applied. I had been spared. A child psychologist would probably hypothesize this was Reed’s way of acting out against sibling jealously. (Reed is an only child, but knitting is his greatest competitor…which apparently he knows all too well, even at his young age.)

Reed tried to blame it all on his father in the end. Sadly for him, dad had long been sound asleep in his chair in front of the golf channel after a long day of fishing. He slept through the entire affair and had a strong alibi..

Earlier in the day, I had aspired to do an Architexture photo shoot in the evening light, in preparation for a final Look What I Did! post later in the week. But after all that adrenaline, I just can’t. I have to go lay down on the sofa and knit to recover.

Please excuse me.

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*Amounts to a small table cluttered with all my active knitting projects, a laptop, my fancy camera tucked just out of reach, random office supplies, and bills I should probably pay.

**Okay, since early March. Of 2016.

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