Do you think he is trying to tell me something?

So maybe my obsession with all things fibery is getting to my family, just a little bit. Yes, I know I dragged them to the ends of the earth to tour a llama farm on the family vacation. Perhaps the Saturdays spent fondling rovings and trying out wheels at the Spinner's Flock could be better spent with my family at the lake. Maybe the $9 per hour I make at my LYS , and that is all immediately, um, reinvested in yarn, books, and needles (But I get an employee discount! Summer sale starts tomorrow!) could be better socked away for my childrens' education (which in the next year will cost more than I earned last year). And possibly the Tuesday nights that I hang with the knitin-aa gang could be better spent doing laundry, looking for gainful employment, or paying bills. But really, has it come to this?

When a two-year-old helps you knit, bad things can happen....

Yes, your eyes are not deceiving you. That is a broken #1 Clover bamboo double pointed needle you see at the top of the photo, courtesy of my youngest monster adorable boy. During a serious lapse of judgment I thought I would teach my two-year-old to knit. Little did I know he was bearing me ill-will. The tragedy occurred within 30 seconds.

So, what do you think? Is Evan sending me a non-verbal plea for more mommy time, and less knitting? Do I need to reevaluate my priorities? Take the wheel back? Quit the yarn store? Get a real job?

Or should I just switch to metal needles?

Although it does seem wrong, somehow, to knit your own handspun with metal, doesn't it? Behold the ill-formed offspring of my feeble needles:

First creation from my own handspun. I need to spin more to complete it.
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