Once More, With Extra Wool

30 something knitter/math/Marvel geek girl, living in Central Illinois with my wife and kiddo
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gyzym:

hill-hill-hill:

Thank you, Sam.

( Seriously, I want a Cap belly warmer. )

SCREAMING. PLEASE.

Steve shows up to an Avengers meeting in August wearing a red white and blue scarf that hangs down nearly to his knees, with little pieces of yarn sticking out anywhere there’s a color change. When Tony stares, Steve shrugs. “Bucky hasn’t figured out how to weave in ends yet,” he says, toying with one of the errant pieces. “Pretty good though, right?” 

Tony says nothing. Tony’s not sure there’s anything to say, except, maybe, that knitting needles sound pretty fucking dangerous in the hands of the Winter Soldier. 

In September, Natasha pulls her tablet out of a black knit pouch with red edging; in October, Sam’s wearing a pair of thick grey fingerless gloves, little black wings adorning the tops. Clint comes home one day November wearing deep purple arm warmers, and a few days later Bruce walks by wearing the exact same ones in green. By December, Thor’s storing Mjolnir in a little silver knitted sack, and when Steve and Bucky show up for the Christmas party in matching handmade sweaters, holding hands and generally looking much more like something out of an adorable Hallmark commercial than Tony would’ve guessed upon meeting Barnes six months ago, he has to admit it: he’s hurt. 

"I am not hurt," he hisses at Pepper, when she finds him sulking. "I am — confused. And! Cold! If Barnes is going to knit things for the entire team then, I mean, whatever, I don’t care. I’m just saying, it’s not exactly fair, is it? Everyone getting something and me—” 

"Tony," Pepper interrupts, giving him her gentlest exasperated eyeroll, "Bucky left something for us in the foyer." 

It’s a blanket, as it turns out, red and gold striped. Pepper wraps around her shoulders immediately and refuses to give it back, even when Tony tugs her into a kiss and tries to use the distraction to steal it off her. It looks awesome, though, and it feels pretty damn comfortable for the, like, eight seconds Tony gets his hands on it before Pepper sails away, still wearing it around her shoulders. Huh.

Tony sidles up to Steve at the next Avengers meeting. “Hey,” Tony says, “you were right: your boy’s pretty good with a needle. You think he could make a hat that says ‘War Machine Rox,’ spelled with an X? I need a good birthday present for Rhodey.”

Steve beams at him. 

(via 1geek2craftall)

new chacos, must be spring

I got new hiking boots too

abirchforlee:

Kiddo thinks making pizza is the most appropriate use of the internal organs of her see through human body.

Yup.

Someday, when she’s a mad scientist, we’ll look back on this day and chuckle nervously

This is our pantry, until recently it was crappy wood paneling. I repainted, which took forever, and now I have a pantry again!

knitting progress. this is not an instant gratification project

fridaclements:

oh no you didn’t. 

(via twistedingenue)

canmakedothink:

Teaching Consent to Small Children

mysalivaismygifttotheworld:

afrafemme:

A friend and I were out with our kids when another family’s two-year-old came up. She began hugging my friend’s 18-month-old, following her around and smiling at her. My friend’s little girl looked like she wasn’t so sure she liked this, and at that moment the other little girl’s mom came up and got down on her little girl’s level to talk to her.

“Honey, can you listen to me for a moment? I’m glad you’ve found a new friend, but you need to make sure to look at her face to see if she likes it when you hug her. And if she doesn’t like it, you need to give her space. Okay?”

Two years old, and already her mother was teaching her about consent.

My daughter Sally likes to color on herself with markers. I tell her it’s her body, so it’s her choice. Sometimes she writes her name, sometimes she draws flowers or patterns. The other day I heard her talking to her brother, a marker in her hand.

“Bobby, do you mind if I color on your leg?”

Bobby smiled and moved himself closer to his sister. She began drawing a pattern on his leg with a marker while he watched, fascinated. Later, she began coloring on the sole of his foot. After each stoke, he pulled his foot back, laughing. I looked over to see what was causing the commotion, and Sally turned to me.

“He doesn’t mind if I do this,” she explained, “he is only moving his foot because it tickles. He thinks its funny.” And she was right. Already Bobby had extended his foot to her again, smiling as he did so.

What I find really fascinating about these two anecdotes is that they both deal with the consent of children not yet old enough to communicate verbally. In both stories, the older child must read the consent of the younger child through nonverbal cues. And even then, consent is not this ambiguous thing that is difficult to understand.

Teaching consent is ongoing, but it starts when children are very young. It involves both teaching children to pay attention to and respect others’ consent (or lack thereof) and teaching children that they should expect their own bodies and their own space to be respected—even by their parents and other relatives.

And if children of two or four can be expected to read the nonverbal cues and expressions of children not yet old enough to talk in order to assess whether there is consent, what excuse do full grown adults have?

I try to do this every day I go to nursery and gosh it makes me so happy to see it done elsewhere.

Vertebrae finished!  I think I’ll make a matching hat.

prettylittlecurls:

Great recording of a Henhouse Prowlers show!

Have you ever wondered, “what is Lee’s favorite bluegrass band, and how can I hear them?”