I left the pocket open. I wish I’d thought of this to add a few to Parker’s blankie when I was fixing it so that he would have a safe way to stick his hands through it like he likes to do, but at least I have the idea now.
We dropped the square off at knit night on our way to Home Despot to look at floorings. Afterwards, we were sitting talking when I looked at John and went, “Waaait… Is it just the lighting in here? Seriously? Am I seeing a few gray hairs?”
“Yup,” he grinned. “They’re there!”
If ever I needed proof that he’s the one kid who takes after my side of the family… My dad started going gray at 14, my mom had noticeable gray hairs by 30. (Right, Mom?)
One funny thing about marrying a kid whose parents were friends with mine all the way to when they were newlyweds is that my in-laws once showed me a picture from way back then of my dad when he actually had dark in his mustache and some color still in his hair. Which I had never seen.
I know, I know, John’s still brown on top with red in his beard–quick, before he goes! Take pictures!