My 12 year old daughter has asked me to crochet her a lap blanket.
To date she has shunned every offer of something handmade. Well, that's not quite true. I managed to coerce her into letting me crochet her a cowl last Autumn. I got as far as buying the wool but she ended up pooh-poohing all of my suggestions and then changed her mind. Apparently it's not so cool to adorn yourself with something your Mum has made.
I've stood quietly by while she has oohed and aahed over very ordinary high street knits. Her favourite winter accessories have been her grey slouchy hat and matching cowl from Zara. If you peek in her room, it's a nasty One Direction throw that you'll see, lying across the end of her bed. It crackles with static if you so much as look at it. How I loathe that thing. (It would have met an 'accidental' end by now had it not been a present from her brother.)
I wish I could have crocheted when they were both too little to have an opinion. It must feel amazing to swaddle your baby in a blanket you have lovingly made yourself.
Anyway, this turn of events has delighted me, to say the least.
It started with her being uncharacteristically complimentary about my Spring Stripe blanket. (My children normally refer to my crochet as "one of Mum's quirks".) When she actually asked me if I'd make one just for her, I nearly fell off my chair.
She's drawn a picture of what she'd like (stripes again but that suits me - you know how I adore my stripes) and we've ordered the yarn. There's no going back now.
I love crochet. I love the whole process from start to finish. But to actually crochet something specially for my girl which, you never know, could last longer than I do? That is me loving crochet and some.
Have a glorious weekend.