Knitting and lessons on death

A couple years ago I was picking out some yarn for various projects and getting some knitting needles and crochet hooks. The first born Mini Me was along for the fun and he was tolerating it fairly well.

Then he looked at me and said "Could I make something?" I was a little floored, the first Mini Me really isn't into making anything. He likes to know how it works and will research it, but the actual doing it? Not him.

I said "Sure, pick out a color and I will teach you how to knit."

He picked out his yarn and home we went. Once home, the general chaos of life overtook everything and time went by with the promised knitting lessons never spoke of again.

So the other day I was rummaging through my yarn and came across this random skein he had picked out. First I felt guilty, then a little sad, and then determined that I would indeed fulfill my promise.

I was grieving the death of my grandfather during the time as he had just recently passed away and Mini Me #1 never even had time to prepare for his pending fate of life lessons with knitting.

While teaching someone to knit is fairly simple, I felt the necessity to impart a life lesson. 

The lessons began and he was progressing quite nicely and then I made it complicated:


Me, "Look at your square for a minute and tell me what you see"
Mini Me "Huh?"
"What do you see?"
"Some holes where I messed up and something weird over here."
"In the places you messed up do you think anyone will notice?"
"Maybe."
"If you make a lot do you think they will notice?"
"Yeah."
"It is a little like life."
"Huh?", it came out more like a grunt question that only preteen boys make.
"Well, we all make mistakes, but life goes on and no one really notices once our lives our done."
"But my project has a lot mistakes."
"If you make the same mistake over and over, then you will have a big hole in your life. It will be noticeable at the end when you die."

He gave up knitting after that.