“Is that a sweater?”

My three girls just started back to swimming lessons today. These are half hour lessons twice a week, so naturally…I bring one of the socks in progress. This one is the Uptown Boot Socks from Interweave Press Favorite Socks, in Tofutsies, 50% superwash wool, 25% soysilk, 22.5% cotton and 2.5% chitin – yeah, like crab-shells. Weird!

Anyway. I’m charging along toward the 8” mark on this gently cabled sock, which is where the destructions tell me to start the heel. So I’m at That Point in the project, where it doesn’t look at all like a sock yet, unless you are a knitter in which case you look at it and say, “Oh, what a nice sock!”

And if you’re a Knitter you might even look at it from across a busy mall and say, “Oh look! That woman is knitting an Uptown Boot Sock from Favorite Socks and she’s using Tofutsies which has chitin in it!”

I have learned not to underestimate the powers of Knitters. I have encountered very few in the wild, but they are out there and lo…their powers of memory, observation and attention span are mighty.

So I’m sitting there with one eye on my offspring and the other on my sock when I become aware that someone is trying to catch my eye. I look up, and she immediately asks, “Are you knitting a sweater?!”

She asks this with keen interest. I smile and say, “No, it’s a sock!”

Her face falls.

“Oh. I thought it might be a sweater.”

“No, it’s a sock.” I held it up to demonstrate the cuff at the top thing. “It’s easier to stuff into my purse,” I added, by way of explanation. While I have been known to stuff a sweater-in-progress into my purse, it does tend to take up more room than is comfortable for daily running about.

“Oh.”

She is clearly disappointed and returns to her busy life. I return to my sock. A few minutes later a child perhaps five years old pads past on damp little feet, heading for the heated pool. She does a double-take and backs up to stare at the sock with her face perilously close to the moving needles.

I stop knitting. Because, you know, five year old eyeballs, double-pointed needles…yeah. She lifts her eyes up to me and waits expectantly for an explanation of this Strange and Mysterious Artifact.

“I’m knitting a sock,” I tell her.

“Oh. It’s not a sweth-ther?” she asks me.

“No,” I assure her. “See? This part is the cuff, and then I’m going to put a heel right about here…”

“Oh. How does it go around? Why is it purple? Is that string? Do you need all those needles? How come you put that one in your hair? How do you do the lumps?”

Quickly satisfied, she padded onward to her warm wading pool to share the information with her cohorts. They stared at me from across the room, their little eyes peering at me from just barely above the edge of the pool. I waved the sock at them. They giggled and began splashing each other.

“Oh my goodness! Are you making a sweater?!” someone squealed next to me. I jumped.

“Uh. No. It’s a…it’s a sock,” I said. I held it up and squinted at it suspiciously. Was it possible that I had begun working on a sweater without realizing it? I wouldn’t put it past me. I’ve been more distracted than usual lately…

“Oh. Wow. Really? It looks like the sleeve of a sweater!”

“You’re right, it does,” I agreed. “I’ll do the heel soon and then it’ll look like a proper sock. Only without a foot.”

{blank stare}

“Ooooooh. Wait. You…how do you do…how do you…?”

I described the Mystic Practice known as {wild Gypsy music} heel turning {/wild Gypsy music}.

To which she replied…and I quote… “Whoa.”

Yeah. Whoa.

I wrangled the Denizens home and made dinner and am getting back to work.

But I’m worried.

Because frankly, the sock?

It does look an awful lot like a sweater sleeve.

Hmmmmmmmmmm…