But I do know where my Bitties are, and I had such fun with them yesterday! BittyBubba is not exactly pulling his sister’s hair in this photo. It was more that he was stroking it, one strand at a time.
I asked him to lean his head in toward BittyBit’s. This is what the camera saw:
I’m going back for more, today! [No, he is not pushing his sister’s head; he is patting it.]
I have the leg done on the first baby sock; the heel flap is next. I’ve put it on a spare needle, carefully rewound the ball of yarn, and am knitting the second sock to the same point. Not sure if I have enough yarn to make two whole socks, and after Cuprit’s sweater I am hoping to avoid any frogging and tinking for awhile, so I will work back and forth on these socks until they are done. My last conscious act before crashing last night, was to wind a ball of contrasting yarn for the heels and toes if need be.
The kids and I have checked with three [count ’em, three] Post Offices, all of whom claim not to have the box containing my doll and some other goodies that Fourthborn ordered. How can one not-see a box that is 3’ x 1’ x 1’, more or less? [After I was Bittied-out, I picked up Fiancé, who had been on the phone all day, so I wouldn’t have to play “he said, she said”. He opined to the supervisor with whom I spoke on Wednesday night that the supervisor at another post office could not find his (shall we say) derrière even with a map and/or GPS. The good supervisor blinked, but did not contradict him. She also gave me more names and phone numbers to contact today.] I will be heading over that way, anyway, to pick up Fourthborn from work to go to a mini-meet in another suburb.
At this point, Fiancé and I are suspecting one of two scenarios (scenarii?): I fear that some officious bureaucrat has deported Cuprit; he thinks she might have been doll-napped, not by the letter carrier, but by persons unknown who saw the customs form and said “This box is worth how much? Wonder what’s inside.”
So at the mini-meet tonight, I will be the one knitting cute and adorable baby socks. Maybe the restaurant would let me draw a chalk outline of my missing doll on the banquette?
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!