Some good friends of ours are due with their third child in September. They're one of those maddening couples who refuse to find out the gender of the baby before it's born, making it very hard on the potential gift-givers in their lives.
I am so proud of myself, though. I started knitting a darling little sweater out of a scrumptous rust colored yarn: a little cardigan with Peter Pan collars and I'll finish it with some Noah's Ark buttons I found. It will be done in plenty of time for the baby's arrival and it will be the perfect weight for unpredictable September. Except...
I knit while I watch TV because, as one of my friends says, it's just mindless enough that it keeps you busy but you don't have to pay very close attention to it. Except for when you do. I was feeling like such a domestic goddess and good friend as I whipped up this little creation the other night. It just flew off my needles and I picked up those stitches so evenly for the glorious little Peter Pan collar which laid down just right. On one of the armholes. So now I'm confronted with the two choices that all knitters eventually face: I can either pull all that mess out and start over, or I can secretly hope that their baby is born looking like this:
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