I am obsessed with tiny shoes.
(Also, Aunt Chantal, if you are reading this, TURN YO’SELF RIGHT BACK AROUND. READ NO FURTHER. OR ELSE.)
Alright, now that I’ve got that sorted out, I can continue. Yes, I am obsessed with tiny shoes. I knit some baby booties before, and they were a smidge addictive, but they weren’t for the baby of a family member so I resisted the urge to make more. People who aren’t related to you aren’t required to handle quite as much insanity as family members. They’re stuck with you. (muahahahahaha!) However, as I may have mentioned, (once, or twice, or ten times) my aunt is having a baby, and it’s her seventh. Once you’ve had that many kids, you’ve pretty much got all the essentials for raising them (I think.) However, what you have less of is the sortof fancy gorgeous special things that everyone seems to get for the first baby. So my current mission was born. I’m knitting some really nice stuff for this baby. My style has been a bit cramped by my aunt’s refusal to tell me what flavor of baby might be arriving (she doesn’t want to ruin the surprise for herself and the family) but my mom is visiting her and my grandparents this weekend, and she is going to be my ambassador. I have authorized her to offer bribes of knitwear of unrivalled beauty if only her doctor will call and tell me what kind of baby it is. I have also been sworn to secrecy, and I keep my promises. (Although I know that if I do manage to wangle the info out of my aunt, I will be completely beset by my relations, begging to be let in on the secret. But I shall be firm, and possibly a bit smug that my knitterly powers have granted me advance notice of the baby’s gender.) I do also have this on my side. Another of my aunts recently presented me with a lovely little girl child to knit for. Armed with prior knowledge of the baby’s gender, I knitted this, and it still fits. Here she is wearing it at Good Friday service this year:
This is one of the best things I have ever knit, hands down, and it made all the women in my family squee with delight. She looks like a perfect little princess in it, and I’m hoping that it will be enough to convince my Aunt Chantal to cave. If not, I’ll just have to keep knitting gender neutral stuff. However, when you’re knitting tiny shoes with a lovely cream angora-blend yarn?
It’s not the end of the world. I told my mom that if she didn’t hear from me within a week to send help. I might be buried in baby booties. (I might be knitting a bonnet now to take the edge off.)