vanshira:

oatmealberrychipnutcookies:

snugglebunchesofeyes:

lifesgrandparade:

Imagine typing out this letter and not stopping halfway and thinking “Hmmm, this makes me sound like the worst human being in the world.”

I need prudence’s reply. I think we all need to hear Prudence’s reply.

THIS WAS PRUDENCE’S REPLY:

But nothing did happen. You received a thoughtful gift that cost more time than money. That’s it! If someone gives you a present you don’t like, you smile and say, “Thanks, how thoughtful,” and then stash it in the back of your closet. You don’t ask your kid to complain to the gift-giver via backchannel. It’s fine if you like to give expensive presents—and can afford to do so—but that’s not the only way to show someone that you care. Even if you don’t like knitwear, your daughter-in-law spent countless hours over the course of a half-year working on something very detailed for you, and you say yourself it was a lovely bedspread. Whether she got the yarn with the gift card you gave her or spent her own money is beside the point; you’re acting as if she re-gifted something when that clearly wasn’t the case. Your daughter-in-law’s gift was thoughtful and intricate; yours was financially generous and relatively generic. There would be no reason to compare the two if you hadn’t insisted on doing so in the first place.

You are grown adults with plenty of money; if there’s something you want for yourself, go ahead and buy it—this kind of petty scorekeeping around gift-giving is barely excusable when little children do it. Writing her a letter to express “sadness” that her own parents didn’t teach her proper etiquette would be wildly inappropriate, out of line, and an unnecessary nuclear option. And it’s a guaranteed ticket to make sure you see and hear about your grandchildren way less than you do now. You still have time to salvage this relationship—don’t die on this hill. Let it go, apologize for your churlishness, and take yourself shopping if you want a pricey gift this year.

Found it.

A reminder that knitters spend a long, long time and put a lot of thought into what they choose to make you. If you act like this woman, you’re not ‘knitworthy’. And example – I have a circular blanket I made, a red star in the centre with ridged silver grey surrounding it. A Bucky blanket, for my partner. She loves it. My sister-in-law, who also knits and crochets, asked if I could make one like it for her four year old, as he adored wrapping himself in it. I did, in Iron Man colours, to a diameter of almost two metres. Within a week or two of gifting it, their six year old had torn holes in it in three or four places, making it unusable. Six year old had also asked for ‘a green horse’ for Christmas. I found and purchased the crochet pattern, and reworked it twice until it was the right size and looked appealing. In less than a week, every single limb including the head had been torn from the body. I repaired the horse and returned it, but the blanket, which took hundreds of hours, I have more or less decided to use the yarn to make squares for blankets for the homeless instead. I will not knit or crochet for the kids until they’re teenagers, because the older child gleefully and remorselessly destroying something that took me so much time and effort (without parental intervention, no less) has made it not worth my time.