Socks and Robbers

"What are you doing?" the unknown little boy asked me as I sat waiting for the kids to get out of a class.
"Knitting," I explained, showing off my project. "I'm making socks."
He watched me curiously for a few minutes, probably waiting for a sock to appear. Finally, exasperated by my lack of progress he asked me, "Do you know, you can buy those?"

Making things by hand isn't always rewarding. I'm sure that people have given me gifts in the past that I haven't been properly grateful for, and I'm really sorry for it now. Because now I make things to give away (and sell!) and I really appreciate the work that goes into so many things that I took for granted before. I mean, I now know why darning was invented. After you knit a pair of socks and realize how much effort goes in to them, there is no way on God's green earth will you throw them out without fighting for them first. I think that I would wear a pair of socks that's all darn and no knitting if I had to. I enjoy making socks, but I also am very glad someone figured out how to make them by machine. If they hadn't we'd either have heirloom socks in my house, or a lot of barefoot children.

Luckily, I have quite a few fans of my work. Caleb and Hannah argued over who would be the recipient of the first Wallaby* I made (Caleb.) Hannah really likes the over-the-knee socks I made for her (when she can find them.) And my skull skull hats certainly have their fans too.

The other fans of my work are our kittens, although kitten is a bit of a misnomer these days. The kittens are nearly fully grown. They actually are fully grown physically--mentally, however, they remain kittens. Skugge and Loudred have been hand raised by us since they were about two weeks old. They are our Halloween kittens, all black and slinky and full of mischief. They are my biggest fans. I can't pull out a skein of yarn without them running over to see what I'm doing. I can't put down a half finished project without them trying to tear it apart. I'm sure that they only do it to see how it's put together. Unfortunately for me, then I have to put it back together again.

And it's not only socks that I'm making that thrill them. They love socks that have already been made. They like them clean, dirty, colored or white. Caleb and Hannah created a scientific method of determining how much the kittens really wanted the socks, and whose socks were most desirable. The kids put the socks on top of the entertainment center to see if the kittens would jump up that high to get the socks. They put socks from all members of our household up there. The results...well, for one thing, the kittens won't stop jumping up on the top of the entertainment center to look for more socks. They keep investigating just in case some more magically appearing socks showed up since the last time they checked (2.5 minutes ago.)

And it's not just lone socks that are hunted. Socks still on feet are also game for the little felines. I've had my feet investigated, nipped and attacked in fits designed to test the adherence of socks still being used by my feet. I've had my slippers removed by kittens wanted to get closer to my sock-clad feet.

In the end, the most popular socks are the socks that I've made. The kittens will leave any other type of sock behind in order to play with the socks that I created. I guess that they don't care if you can buy them in stores. They really like my socks.

Talking in My Sleep

Lying in bed on Sunday morning after a long, NATO night, the bed shakes slightly indicating that someone has crawled in with me. I can't even open my eyes, I'm so tired. I'm having a dream of Mad Men, (which I've never seen) that takes place in a model train layout, acted out by Barbie dolls. I don't want it to end. I know that it's absurd, and I'm enjoying it.

"I really like science, Mom."

"Mmm."

"I want to talk about why I like science. I think I'm going to be a scientist."

This is obviously important. I need to make an effort to be a good Mom and listen. "Hnh," is the best I can do.

"I like thinking about things. Science is a lot of thinking. You know, sometimes when I'm alone, or people think I'm not doing anything, I'm really thinking. I think about a lot of things, and science always gives you new things to think about."

"Srr...argle...mulfta."

"I'm going to be an astronomer. I know it's a lot of school and stuff, but school isn't bad when you study what you want to learn. I know I have to work on math. I'll need a lot of math. I'm not fast at math yet, but I will be, and then I'm going to be an astronomer. I think that's a lot of years of school."

"Ya...gompra...habbuti."

"I know that I might not be famous being a scientist, but I'll be doing important work. I think it's important to do work that's important. That might help people. I don't know what kind of astronomer I want to be yet. Maybe study gamma rays. You know a gamma ray burst can destroy a whole planet? I want to make sure that people are safe. I don't think I want to travel in space though. I'd miss you. I'd miss Earth."

"Me too."

"Okay. I just wanted to let you know." Pause. He's too old to kiss me unprompted most of the time, but this is normally where I would prompt him.

"I miss talking to you," I tell him.

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you too." He slips out of bed and I lay there, wondering if I just agreed to pay for twelve years of graduate studies. Then I fall asleep. Two more days of NATO ahead.

Wednesday afternoon we are driving to Hannah's dance class. Caleb picks up a thread of conversation where he left off several days earlier. "Mom, how do scientists get paid?"

I don't know what to answer. I think I tell him that he should affiliate himself with a research institution and apply for lots and lots of grants. Then I remember that I'm a teacher. I plug my specialty: "You could write articles and books."

He sighs. "That's what I was afraid of. Well, I guess I might have fun anyhow. I'll try."

The scientist with his circuit. It makes noise, and is light activated. Hence the darkened room.