In the last week I have broken up at least ten fights, wrangled a wild animal, and repeatedly used that hackneyed phrase "because I said so". In other words I have been babysitting my nieces and nephew.

Of course that means no knitting. But it doesn't mean no knitting disaster stories. A couple of days ago I woke up around 7:30 and groggily made my way to the living room. I could hear more than one television going, but I was expecting it. My sister brings her kids over very early, while I am still asleep. They are supposed to lay down and go back to sleep for a few more hours. In reality they watch every television in the house and get on the computer, while playing Gameboys and listening to music. It's quite soothing.

I entered the room and spied my nephew sitting on the couch watching sitcoms. I was still half asleep, so it took me a while to realize that the small blurry object running circles around the room was my sister's lovable but untrained new puppy. And the jumble of crap lying in the middle of the floor was my unfinished Venezia, several balls of yarn and a big steaming pile of dog poop.

Now remember, I was still half asleep. I was completely incapable of conscious thought. By the time I came to, I found myself screaming, "Get him out of here get him out of here get him out of here!"
I was using a voice down at the bottom of my register that I had never heard before. I sounded as if I were possessed by the devil. My throat hurt for hours afterwards.

My nephew grabbed the puppy and ran out of the room. I felt kind of bad. I didn't say anything inappropriate, but I have never spoken to him in that tone. That's not to say I have never yelled at him. I have, but I have never yelled at anyone like that.

It's true. There was something about seeing this piece of knitting, which I have already invested hours in, looking as if it might be ruined that just brought out roaring lion in me. In that brief moment I screamed as if it were my baby under a car instead of some very colorful string interlaced in a pretty pattern. I guess I am a confirmed knitting addict after all.

Everything turned out fine. My sweater didn't actually have any poop on it. My nephew was convinced that I was a maniac for a couple of hours, during which he was very well behaved. It wore off after a couple of hugs, and it was back to complete and utter chaos.

In other words, all was well in the end.