Dear Santa...

The Boy is four and a half now. Each Christmas he becomes more and more aware of what's going on, and the anticipation becomes harder and harder for him. This is the first year he's asked to send a letter to Santa. The Boy, however, can not write. The Boy isn't actually that interested in writing, and I figure he'll come to it in his own good time, so I haven't been pushing it. This is the first time he's ever been concerned about his inability to write. So, because he's a bright kid, he came up with this idea:


Yes, this year's letter to Santa is a photo collage. I told him I'd post it to Santa, but I think I might just e-mail this scan instead, and cc it to some of Santa's little helpers. I believe that most of these were cut out from the Scholar's Choice catalogue, which is quite convenient, because Santa has been known to shop at Scholar's Choice, possibly because they do free gift wrapping as well.

Collage seems to be the new thing at our house. There are now four collages on my kitchen table to be sent to Santa. This one, I have been told, has the BEST stuff, because it was first.

Imagination meets reality...

Loughborough Station, October 2007

I just wanted to share this photo from our recent trip, for all those of you out there who doubted him. In the words of The Boy just before this picture was taken, "He's really really real!"

For those of you with small children--if you ever get an opportunity to spend "A Day Out With Thomas", it's worth every penny. Not much chance in Canada, although he does visit Ontario, Alberta and BC.

Done and blocking...

So it turns out that I don't have anywhere to block FOs that isn't needed for someone to sleep on.

Those are the cushions from the couch, moved to the floor. I could have left them on the couch, but that's where the cats like to sleep.

Looking more closely:

Please note the pedicured toes. That's I'm not really a waitress from Opi. Someone actually said that to me on Monday, "Is that I'm not really a waitress on your toes?" I think I have trendy toes.

And a closeup:

Carp. In my excitement I've managed to blur it.

This is one of the Diamonds on the Diagonal patterns from Ilga Leja. It's meant to be a scarf, but I've added repeats to make it wider, and used two skeins of Celestial Merino in bittersweet chocolate instead of one. I love the way that it looks, and I hope it's long enough. If it's not, I'll have to reblock it somewhere longer, which might mean House Man and I will have to sleep on the couch while the bed gets used for blocking!

And because I love them:

The Boy, Provincial Ex, Truro, 2007

House Man, portrait by The Boy, Provincial Ex, Truro, 2007

Words of Wisdom

"If it has sprinkles on it, it's a cupcake".
-The Boy, September 10th, 2006

Never swear in front of a three year old!

So we're all out in the garage helping to unpack the race car. The Boy loves the race car, as you can see from this photo taken at the track:
















Anyway, he's pretending to drive, just like he is in the photo above. His Dad is at the back of the car examining his tyres--I guess it's time for new ones, but I don't want to talk about the cost of new racing tyres (they're street tyres, actually, but special street tyres just for racing. WTF???). Anyway, he's telling me something about them and the F word pops out. As in "Oh, that's another f***ing thing I noticed". Not loudly, not in temper, just conversationally. Well, NEVER swear in front of a three year old. No, never, not even in a whisper. The Boy heard it, yes he did. And calmly informed us that "That tyre is a f***ing ratbag Daddy. That's all f***ing stuff Daddy, f***ing ratbag stuff Daddy". He must have come up with fifteen variations on the words f***ing, ratbag and Daddy. Anyway, I know you're supposed to ignore kids when they swear, that's what the books all say, but it was so f***ing funny to hear this angelic child swearing, and he kept it up for so long with so much imagination, His Dad and I were nearly in tears trying not to laugh!

So, never swear in front of a three year old.