My Name's The Teacher

I met my father's "other" family today. No, it's not a step-family... if either of my parents ever re-marry, I think I'll die laughing. No, it's the 4-H* family Dad has taken under his wing: three kids, ages 6, 10, and 12, all extremely intelligent.

The middle child, a boy with a love of crochet, saw me working on my knee-high stocking today and started asking a bunch of questions. He wanted to know how to start, how to make a stitch, what increases and decreases were... it was so cute! When I offered to come to his house and teach him how to knit, he practically flew out of his chair to ask his mother if it would be okay. His mother, who is one of the sweetest women I have ever met, said I was welcome to come over any time, and that she was glad there was someone to teach the boy to knit, since she was so busy with other things. (She homeschools these kids, by the way... busy lady.)

So the next time they invite us over for dinner (probably before sis goes back to school at the end of the month) I'll be teaching a 10-year-old boy how to knit. I'm so excited! Since he already knows how to crochet, I think he'll pick up knitting with no trouble at all. Now, should I pick up some needles for him, or should I assume he'll borrow a pair from his mother? Hmm...


*I've somehow managed to mention 4-H in every entry so far. It's not intentional, I promise... it just seems to be connected to what I've been writing about. I'll try to stop. Really.