My baby's feet fascinated me. They were soft and squidgy and had never stood on solid ground. Nothing seemed more vulnerable or full of promise than those little feet. I knitted bootees while pregnant. They always fell off, but I persisted until socks were the only option.
I walk barefoot whenever I can. This is probably so off putting to my now grown baby that he will not have bare feet at all. The upside of this rebellion is that, amazingly, my 16 year old loves hand knitted socks. He doesn't kick them off. He rarely takes them off.
As a knitter, this is great news. For years I have knitted things no one wanted. Fugly jumpers lay rightly unworn and unloved. My dad said that they could best be used to lag the boiler, but proper insulation was a darn sight cheaper.
My son wears his hand-knitted socks around the house. He wears them well and right through to the soles of his feet. His granny knitted him loads - delighted also to have someone who actually wanted the knitting.
Over the past six weeks, I've learned to knit socks using circular needles. No more dpns for me. Socks are flying off my pins. I am on my fourth pair already.
A request has been made for xmas socks. Self striping yarn makes this easy These green, red and white striped lovelies may even be finished by early December. Imagine, I now have someone asking - are those finished yet? When will they be finished?
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Treasures to keep. Those little feet have become size thirteens. My knitted bootees have become giant socks. My heart is full when those socks - made with care - are soleless with wear.
I couldn't decide whether this post was about feet or socks -its about both.
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