Hooked

I'm trying to learn to crochet. I know, I know, "You don't know how to crochet!" Yes I know how to chain stitch, I made the bandages and maybe a scarf and definitely a necklace or two, but I want to make hats and scarves. So I started to practice and search YouTube and I taught my girls to chain stitch and I bought yarn. And we crochet. Evan said, "Just tell me you won't make a sweater with one arm longer than the other and make me wear it and then smile like the cheshire cat every time I wear it." (I don't think he knows the difference between knit and crochet.) I could just picture him looking like the boy in About a Boy in some crazy striped sweater, that would be fun. My sister said her husband is terrified he will come home one day to find her crocheting while watching Ellen. But no, I just want to make little stuff.

Sadie, Ella, Ella's friend, and I were sitting around with our hooks and yarn and a funny thing happened. Ella's usually quiet friend and Ella started talking like I wasn't there. They were sharing things about their day and boys in their class. Things they never would have told me otherwise. We were giggling and laughing. We were little old ladies in a knitting group with our stories and laughter, our needles clinking together. Only we weren't. We were a mom and three little girls with our crochet hooks and our crushes, our awkward fingers working together. And I loved it. And if I become a lady who carries her yarn everywhere she goes and sits and watches Oprah with her basket at her feet and a trail of yarn making its way around the house, well, so be it.