Eternal optimism

Molly has been exposed to knitting for her entire life. So I would think she'd get the general idea. She has seen me knit things. She wears things I've knit, that she saw when they were yarn. She's 7 (almost 8 yikes!) but she doesn't always think like a 7 year old. Sometimes it's hard to really tell how she thinks at all.

While in the hotel from hell on the way to Florida, we watched an episode of Higglytown Heroes where one of the little whats-its guys was knitting a scarf (in about 10 seconds). In the episode (called Shear Luck) she ran out of yarn and had to call a sheep farmer to shear a sheep, and spin the fleece into yarn, so she could finish her scarf).

Ever since then, whenever she sees me knitting she asks "Are you knitting my pink socks?" Nevermind that the knitting in question is usually brown, or it was blue for a while, or deep purple. None of it has ever been pink, or a color even close to pink. Most of it hasn't looked like a sock (except the purple socks). Surely she can't think a cream/tan/peach/brown lace shawl is a pink sock, right?

Apparently she's under the same sort of delusions as the Yarn Harlot's nephew Hank, and thinks that knitting is transformative, not just to the shape of the yarn, but to the actual color. And apparently to the already produced bits of knitting. If you know what you're doing, you can turn brown yarn into a pink sock. Now that's optimism.

Molly has never actually *asked* me to make her pink socks, but just says several times a day "Are those my pink socks?" ummm, nope, sorry, blue pants (red-orange-pink head scarf/purple socks/bulky brown wrap/brownish lace). But when I found myself at Mass Ave last Saturday I had to find some yarn for pink socks.
This hot pink Babyboo DK weight bamboo blend yarn seemed perfect. It is, by the way, so so so soft. I can't stop petting it. I am considering making myself a pair of socks out of it too.

Last Sunday we were going to spend the day at my dad's house with a lot of extended family to celebrate a birthday and watch the Colts beat the Chargers. I wanted some mindless knitting for football so I brought the pink sock yarn.

In the car on the way there I took at guess at the size, cast on 32 stitches, knit for about an inch. When we got there I tried it on, and it seemed right so I kept going. Vinatieri kicked a 47 yard field goal that put us in the lead. Things were going fine.

All afternoon I knit the sock, and watched the game. The Chargers pulled ahead, but we'd been down before. I tried the sock on for length or foot length. It seemed a little tight, but that was just because it was still on the needles. It's hard to put a sock on someone else's foot. I believed, both in the game and in the sock, right up until the very end.

All the way to the toe graft, when I held up the sock declared the victory.

Then I tried to put the sock on Molly again and finally had to accept defeat. Knitterly denial will only get you so far. While I CAN put it on her foot, it's just too small.

Damn.

Now I have to go watch the Chargers get the crap beat out of them by New England.

And start over with the sock.