The newborn chin-quiver. Baby-fat rolls. Crocodile tears. Baby teeth. Big teeth.
There are those things that make the depths of a Mama's heart rapidly pulsate with unabashed, uncontrollable, incomprehensible, and inexplicable love. Heart quivers, I call them.
This, my friends, is one of those things:
Gah!
"Through the fence, catch the sheep, back we come, off we leap!"
These were his words with every stitch. Every. Single. Stitch.
Heart quivers, here, people, heart quivers.
Oh, my. Then his brother picked up the needles.
My boy. Knitting. Knitting with his fly down and holes in his knees.
I'm not sure my heart can take much more. I've been reduced to a quivering puddle.
Must. Buck. Up. I must! Because they've said that they're knitting a cuddle blanket for Scruffy .
And we all know it'll take quite a bit of knitting to make one of those.
Is there any hope for me?
