I'm realistic enough to know that this will be a journey, that however fantastic I believe my son to be, he's not going to be able to pick up the needles and instantly be able to form the required loops. He is only three years and one month old, after all. I'm delighted that he even shows an interest. It never fails to make me smile when he asks after the knitter of any handmade garment, accessory or sampler he comes into contact with. I love listening to his opinion when discussing possible yarn types and shades (although this is often when I'm frantically replacing said yarn onto its shelf in one of our many yarn shops) and, even if we rarely share the same opinion when the yarn is still restrained by its ball band, he never ceases to be complimentary when the piece is finished. I enjoy his requests for additional knitwear to his wardrobe (although he is probably tired of the ol' "how I knitted you this lovely intarsia dog hat that you never wear" story). The fact he's now asked to hold his own pair of needles is, well, wonderful. I just hope is that I don't ruin it.
So this afternoon we started to knit his most beloved toy, "Mr Clown", a scarf. As most of my yarn is in storage, our choice was limited but we found a lovely ribbon yarn with variegated and "beautiful" colours. Perfect for the colourful Mr Clown. Oldest Son cleared the rocking chair as he knew that he needed the additional brightness from the spot light with which to knit and sat waiting for me, needles in hands. Ahhhh.
Once persuaded to join me on the sofa, I cast on the 10 stitches that we decided would be enough for the scarf and "we" knitted the first row together. Oldest Son doesn't yet write so it was interesting trying to work with his natural hold of the needles - turns out that we don’t have too much control of, well, anything, if we hold the needle at the blunt end. Turns out stitches can rather easily fall off the needle(s) at pretty much any time. Turns out that watching the changing colour-way as you pull the yarn from the dropped ball behind the sofa is really rather fascinating. Turns out that forming a stitch is really rather complicated. And tiring. We've had to stop after that first row.
So Oldest Son is now recuperating in front of the television and, at his insistence, his knitting is beside him. Youngest Son was showing rather too much interest in it for both our likings so Oldest Son now has a knitting bag.
And me? Well, I’m playing it cool, or at least trying to. This is one pudding that I certainly don’t want to over-egg. And even if Oldest Son never again picks up his needles, today will not be the last of our knitting journey together - I certainly have further to travel and will treasure any and all interest from my boys.