So last night No 1 had a turn.
For the worse.
Not health wise... more like mentally. He's heading at breakneck speed towards 'teenhood' and sometimes hormones have the best of him. Nothing drastic or nasty... I was just left with a serious cause of mother's guilt I couldn't shed.
Was it my fault that my first born, my tiny bundle of joy who survived for months on apples and cheese slices had turned suddenly into this grumpy, self absorbed velociraptor?
I hid in my studio - after forcing him into taking part in something he absolutely had no desire/intention/will of doing ever ever ever again/what's the point of even going - feeling sorry for myself.
And started another project.
I think I'm on to something when I say that there's a direct link between casting on/cutting into fabric and what goes on in our life. I knew I couldn't 'fix' No 1, but what I could do was begin a project which was going to be the best thing ever, something I would never leave half-done for months.. oh no.. not this time.
Does it make sense?
Was I being delusional? Was it a symptom of the boundless optimism that keeps mankind going despite it all?
Could it be that a 'new project' is actually a coping mechanism for troubled times? The proverbial bridge over trouble waters? (When in doubt consult Simon and Garfunkel)
Needless to say No 1 came home happy as Larry. Much happier than Larry in fact. Full of plans and stories. As if our shouting match hadn't happened, as if the banging of doors, the storming off had been a figment of my imagination. As if 'going/doing/taking part' had been after all his idea from the start.
I should know better, I know.
So know I'm left with a pair of barely started mittens. I know I can easily do one... with regards to the 2nd mitten syndrome.... I haven't thought about that one yet. I'll keep you posted.