I took AG and her kindred spirit D to see Professor Magorium on Saturday night. Now that was a wild ride. Two tweens at a movie . . . at night! This was a special treat for both girls, who are much more accustomed to matinees. We settled in, and I grabbed one of the ever-present dishcloth projects I've been trying to finish in time for handmade gift-giving this weekend (a tradition among my husband's siblings).
D leaned forward and whispered, "Mrs. Nall . . . you're knitting . . . again? In the dark? Don't you want to watch the movie?"
Actually, not so much. But I smiled and whispered that I could knit and watch the movie at the same time. She wasn't really satisfied and I could tell that she was storing that additional proof of my "weirdness" away for future sharing with tweendom.
Let's just say that Dustin Hoffman was darling and Princess Star Wars not very comfortable with the whole piano-playing, conducting schtick. Visually, the movie is amazing. And the kid who plays Eric was very appealing.
Ten minutes before the end of the movie, I could tell the girls' attention was elsewhere. Whispers and giggles clued me in to the object of their focus - at the rear of the theater. A teenage couple was going at it, smooching to beat the band. "Now you girls know - if you kiss in public, everyone laughs at you."
Hah. Never miss a teachable moment to implant some motherly advice. And to mess with their heads.
I get that "You're knitting . . . again?" reaction all the time because I knit ALL THE TIME. In carpool, in doctor's offices, in the shotgun spot for long family car trips, during homework. But what folks don't appreciate is that if I weren't knitting, I'd be a finger-tapping, short attention span, restless mess.
I wish I'd known how to knit when my kids were toddlers. They'd have had a lot more time at the playground if Mommy had had something to do other than watch them toddle, fall, flap, and squeal. I love my kids, but . . .