Three years ago, I knit Lexie a washcloth.
It was love at first sight…for her. Her brother, who at that time really wasn’t interested in my knitting for him, immediately gave me sad eyes and asked where his washcloth was. Uh…I’m working on it, buddy! I quickly sat down and whipped up another one – easy with a simple pattern – and Jeffrey took such immediate possession that I never got a project page up.
A few nights ago, I was folding laundry, and came across his washcloth, which was clearly much loved.
The big hole caught my attention first, and I started poking around to see how repairable it was. There wasn’t a lot of viable yarn left to work with. As I stretched it a bit to see what I was working with, another strand of yarn (which had been literally hanging by a thread) snapped, leading to a second hole. There were half a dozen other holes-in-waiting, so I decided it was time to send this washcloth to an honorable retirement.
I didn’t account for Jeffrey.
“I’ve got some bad news,” I started.
“Is there any good news?” he interrupted.
“Uh…I’ll make you another one right away.”
I pointed out the washcloth lying next to me. “Noooooo!” he howled, snatching the washcloth up and hugging it to his chest.
It took some negotiation, but eventually he agreed to hand it back after I promised to replace it. And one more thing.
“Can you frame it?”
It’s good to be loved.