Small Socks
So, I finished them. The socks for Ana (newly nine-years-old), I mean. The ones she really wanted me to make for her. They are beautiful and they took an enormous amount of time on itty-bitty knitting needles. Here they are drying after their inaugural hand (!) washing.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIl5p2mkO4k6ic5dVOLMD141_pvBSfp7JU2cD4RPShPCjA30Jj6POsoaUiaw995LVJPqOR29DOXOM1DngkxQ7ipBL70edZI0hmhmlq0SP3LZ4h9VFlX8y9pD7fZXo08HBkV5C6/s400/DONESOX0001.JPG)
I already know that she's not going to wear them. She put them on once during the process and immediately proclaimed them "itchy" and took them back off.
I knitted them anyway. I knitted them knowing this even before I started them.
This morning, I took the girls to school (this boot was made for hobbling) and when I went to kiss her goodbye, she ducked her head and butted up against me like calves do their mothers. I whispered, "I'm sorry. No more kissing in public?" She nodded, embarrassed, and then leaned all her weight against me in apology.
Here, my love. I knitted you some socks. And I knitted every bit of my love for you, and my mixed feelings about you growing up, into each of the 34,000 stitches.
I don't even care if you wear them or not.
Small things.
I already know that she's not going to wear them. She put them on once during the process and immediately proclaimed them "itchy" and took them back off.
I knitted them anyway. I knitted them knowing this even before I started them.
This morning, I took the girls to school (this boot was made for hobbling) and when I went to kiss her goodbye, she ducked her head and butted up against me like calves do their mothers. I whispered, "I'm sorry. No more kissing in public?" She nodded, embarrassed, and then leaned all her weight against me in apology.
Here, my love. I knitted you some socks. And I knitted every bit of my love for you, and my mixed feelings about you growing up, into each of the 34,000 stitches.
I don't even care if you wear them or not.
Small things.
Comments
-Margaret
Because when your children are grown, they'll read this. Or open their drawer and remember that you knitted those socks.
And they'll kiss you in public.