Evens

Git yer Tuesday morning cuteness right here, folks: Pete asked for a chair so he could inspect the higher bookshelves and pick out his initial. "There again!" he is saying. He is talking so much now, and I am eating it up. A year ago he had approximately five spoken words (augmented with signs and sound effects), but he has had a massive language explosion this fall. He has abandoned all his signs; the last to go were the signs for his brothers' names. These days he uses spoken words like the big guys. "Edit! Anna!" he will call as he goes looking for them.

Back in the summer Marty, who loves dragons, was fascinated with the dragon scarf he kept spotting over my shoulder (maybe it was when I was learning to make socks and had the knitty.com page open?); he kept asking me if I could make it for him. I had a Scottish attack looking at the price, though: that much money? for a kit? into which I would put how many hours? for a scarf? for a kid?! But he kept telling me how cool he thought it was.

Marty is the hardest to please of my four sons. He is the most somber, the one who sees most plainly that life is hard. He's tough to buy gifts for, and here he was telling me about something he'd love to have. Feeling extravagant, I bought the kit and late at night I knitted up a dragon. I gave it to him for his name day, and he was absolutely, uncharacteristically, delighted. "You made this? You did? It must have taken you hours! Wow!" Later in the day he said, "I think this scarf is lucky." Why's that? "It just makes me feel good to hold it." Worth every dime, every late-night minute.

(Product review: I didn't love the kit. The yarn had a nice feel but an uneven texture. Twice it frayed and broke as I was knitting. It was a beautiful color but it was dyed unevenly, with some naked spots. The pattern was mostly easy to follow, but needed some editing at the end. And even though I swatched, the finished scarf was much shorter than the pattern indicated it would be. But I would not have figured out how to make the scales on my own (note to the more adventurous: three-needle bind-off), and I am thrilled with my son's reaction.)

This post's title comes from a family nickname: boys #2 and #4 are collectively called the Evens. If we're planning something with just #1 and #3, we say, "I'll take the Odds." Often #2 and #3 do things together; they're the Middle Guys. I know a mom of four who calls #1 and #4 her "outside children," but here #1 and #4 have a nickname based on a similarity between their names. (If, for instance, I had named them Buoy and Zest, they might be the Soap Boys. Or Hemp and Sisal might be the Rope Boys. You get the idea.)