Recently we got new neighbors, a family of five with one teenage girl, one teenage boy, and one little boy. The father is former military and the mother is a stay-at-home, self-proclaimed, redneck-tomboy. These are not DIY parents.
So when the family saw my house full of crafts it lit a spark in them, each in a different way. The spark was most noticeable in their teenage daughter.
A lot of people ask me if I would be willing to teach them to knit, but to date, no one has ever followed up on their request.
A few days later she came to the door, late in the evening; my husband answered the door. She wanted to know if I would teach her to knit. I was busy with laundry at the moment but of course my response was yes. She came back one or two more times while she waited for me to finish putting away clothes. Finally I was finished.
I pulled out some pink Red Hart I was letting my daughter play with for a while but that she had lost all interest in and a pair of size 10 straight knitting needles.
She caught on quickly as I suspected she would and I sent her home that evening garter stitching herself her very first hand-knit by herself, for herself scarf.
Towards the end of the lesson her mother came over and she excitedly and repeatedly showed her mother her progress.
Before evenings end I had the whole family in my living room. While the adults talked my little student happily clicked away, marveling at her progress and reveling in how relaxing the practice was.
Eventually it was time for the family to walk the few feet to their half of the town home, but before leaving I was met with another request. The teenage son asked that I teach him to knit as well. His sister offered to show him what she'd learned that evening. His parents, anxious to get their brood tucked away in bed suggested he come back for yarn and needles rather than send me off into the bowels of my makeshift basement which is actually just our spare room for yarn for him.
After they left I did a quick scan on the extra bedroom that I am properly full of southern shame about and found the skein of tan, Red Heart yarn I felt would be best for him. I took the yarn over with the size 10 1/2 straight needles he'd clutched only a short time earlier when he asked for some yarn.
I couldn't think of a better use for a yarn that I'm nearly as ashamed to own as I am of my makeshift basement.
However, the next afternoon my doorbell rang, it was the boy. He handed me the yarn with the needles still poking out as I had them the night before and said, "I'm not allowed." I asked if this was, "Because it's too girly?". Instead of a verbal, "yes", I was met with a forlorn, red-faced, nod of the head and he walked slump-shouldered away.