Last night the Boy was sitting on the couch with me to read books right before bed. He was wearing a diaper only and I asked him if he wanted pajamas so he wouldn’t be cold. He said, “No, I want your shawl.” My shawl = my Clapotis. My beloved silk and wool Clapotis. I let him wear it sometimes, so I got it for him and wrapped it around him while he snuggled up to me on the couch. Cute, huh? Yeah, cute until I realized he meant to take it to bed with him. Down that road lies disaster for me and my beloved Clapotis. I know how this stuff works…let him form a sleeping attachment to it, and before you know it, it’ll be his blankie. My most expensive yarn I’d ever bought (at least at that time), took forever to knit Clapotis - morphed into a security blanket. It is to weep…so being the kind and benevolent mommy I am, I set him straight post haste. No, I didn’t rip it out of his sleepy little fingers…I wanted to, but I didn’t. I told him flat out that this night was the one and only time he’d be bringing my Clapotis to bed. Not tomorrow, not the night after, not ever again. “Just tonight?”, he says with big eyes. And I looked right back into those eyes … and told him, “Yes, just tonight”. You have to draw the line somewhere on this selfless sacrificing parent stuff, and I’m drawing it here. My Clapotis. Mine. Mine. Mine.

the Rock Star took him to Edinbourough Park this weekend and they had a ton of fun. Here’s a couple pics.

Knitting update: