My youngest child just turned 19. As a reminder that she will always be my baby, I gave her a stuffed animal. And not just any stuffed animal. It was a knitted elephant. I made the elephant because she collects elephants, even though I think she should still be collecting cows. (There's a story behind that statement; let me know if it needs to be told. Because I'm not above embarrassing my children for a good story.)
It turns out that elephants are knit flat in lots of tiny pieces, that then have to be sewn together at the end. And all of my knitting friends know how much I hate to sew things I've already finished knitting. There is still a pair of slippers in my UFO (UnFinished Objects) pile that took me less than 2 hours to knit and more than 2 years to seam. So the fact that I actually sat down and sewed this elephant together should prove that I love my daughter. And while I won't admit to having favorites, it is a fact that she's the only child I've seamed something for. (The other two have gotten socks, hats, mittens, and other seamless objects.)
I will admit that about an hour into the seaming, I started to question her place in my affections, motherhood in general, and even my sanity. Sigh. I really hate to seam.
But it was worth it. The elephant is adorable -- almost as cute as my daughter!
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