Little Things

The dress is done, my little flowers of delight, and I won’t be showing you any more of it until I have a little chou-fleur to put it on. Technically speaking, Marlowe’s first birthday is today, but her party isn’t til the weekend. This time last year I was headed home in a cab, high on life (and severely messed up on sleep deprivation, oh man, the sleep deprivation had me wild) and I sat in the cab beaming that this little person had come into the world.  It was such a wonderful day.  Such a beautiful birth.  I sat in the cab smiling pure sunshine and wondering why the cabbie wasn’t catching the vibe.  He kept looking at me like I might be a little bit dangerous.   (When I got home and looked in the mirror I realized that I looked like I’d been to a bit of a murder.  Note to self. Wash before leaving births, no matter how tired you are.)   I can’t believe how Marlowe’s grown since then, and how fond I remain of her, and how we’ve been special friends since that day.  I’ve loved watching this:

become this

in only a year.

In any case, while you wait to see the dress modelled (and oh man. You want to see this dress.) I started thinking that maybe Lou needs a bit of a thing.  A little Auntie sweater of his own.  As of May he had no sweaters, and I fixed that, but he’s still only got one, and there’s a chill in the air, and he’s growing like a disease.  (Actually, let me correct that.  I’m sure he has lots of sweaters. It’s not like his mum is going to let him freeze. I just mean he has no handknit sweaters, and in my book, that’s the same as having no sweaters.) Now that I think about it, I think Hank is fresh out of sweaters too. 

I’m going to spend the afternoon happily rooting through the stash, looking for something just right for both nephews.  I’ll consult Hank on his preferences – I mean, he’s twelve, and that’s old enough to have some personal taste, and really, old enough to refuse to wear something because it’s not what he’d like, and I’m not a rookie knitter.  I’m not wasting time making something a kid’s going to resentfully wear once, and then toss on the floor of his room.

Lou will be easy. 

(Photo courtesy of his Papa and Yaya)

He’s obviously still completely helpless to stop us from doing anything we want.