It's me, your kiri shawl, or rather, lack thereof. I still sit here as three balls of kid silk haze, simply waiting for the day that you will put down the dishcloth cotton and break yourself of the horrible addiction that are variegated bibs for small people.
I’m scheduling an intervention with the rest of the stash. Your actions of late have us all worried. The bibs are everywhere. Oh, you try to hide them, but you’re only kidding yourself. I’ve seen them around, blending in with the décor. Your excuses are wearing thin.
The cats do not need blankets
Nor can they successfuly pose as cat toys
Acting as very large bookmarks? Or disguising the midnight knitting?
Decorating the wall?
even as a coaster
And don't think you can hide them in the dirty laundry.
And for the sake of us, I'm going to pretend like I don't see the other one on the needles.
Look, I know you’ve never knit something like me before. I have charts, my fiber is tiny (there’s a reason they call me haze, you know?) and everything you read states I am a nightmare to rip out in the event of mistakes. Just stop worrying about what other people have to say about us. We’ll take it nice and slow, I promise.
Put down the cotton. I’ll meet you at the knitting basket when you’re ready.
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