I am 12 rows away from finishing Mekko. The knitting part, that is. Still have to cut it up.
And that’s what a visit to the parents over the holidays will do–resign you to a corner to knit.
I’m not going to complain (well, only slightly). Christmas is a frenzy. And with my siblings being at different stages of parenting than I am, it’s even more so. This year was remarkably smooth, chez Sato. Each child and each parent created a wish list. Children without jobs (basically Thing 3) were given dollars. Everyone shopped. There was some miscommunication (I received three, yes THREE, cookie jars), but the lists were reasonable and stress-free.
The best gift of all?
Thing 3 pulled the best of all possible pranks.
Here’s Thing 2’s list:
See that last item? Kitten? Well, that wasn’t there originally. The list stopped with the Vans. Sometime last week “kitten” appeared.
I never noticed the addition. Neither did the Mister.
However, Thing 2 noticed. It intrigued her enough to mention it to Thing 1. Thing 2 didn’t write “kitten.” Neither did Thing 1. They figured I wrote “kitten” because I wanted to give her one.
Flash forward: Christmas morning. Hundreds of gifts opened. Wrapping paper everywhere. Big Jim bellows: “well, are we all done?” Paper is scooped up into the garbage bags. Thing 2 is sitting there. “Where’s my kitten?” she asks quietly.
“What kitten?” I reply.
“The kitten that was on my list; the kitten that you added.”
“I didn’t add a kitten to your list,” I state.
“It was written so neatly, I was certain you were getting me a kitten,” says Thing 2.
“Yeah,” says Thing 1 “Why else would there be a kitten on her list?”
The Mister notices this sh*t eating grin on Thing 3’s face.
“Thing 3, did you write ‘kitten’ on Thing 2’s list?”
OMG. The ensuing yelling. Tears. And laughter. Especially from both my brothers (pranksters both) who have elevated Thing 3 to saint status.
And that’s how Christmas goes down chez Sato.
(oh, btw–no lip piercing).