My son and his bright ideas. Either they’re going to get him a nobel prize or they’re going to be the death of me, I can’t decide which.
After lunch, December 23rd, latest brainwave, his sister, himself and I have to go to the fabric shop and buy supplies for them to make their own stockings with (we’ve always used LSH’s largest socks in the past). And then he refuses to follow my advice. Also he just had to piece the two tartan ribbons he’d got to put around the top of his stocking and find all the wackiest stitches on my machine. Still, eventually, with a little help from me, the stockings were finished in time for bed on Christmas eve.