In which my ovaries shoot across the room

Once a month or so, I spend an afternoon at the world's greatest yarn shop, WW. I prepare a little workshop, help people, answer questions.

Around four this afternoon, a little guy, maybe eight years old, sat beside me and asked me what I was doing. It was quiet, so I explained. Then he picked up my scrap yarn, two pens, and asked if he could learn.

Well, I grabbed some spare needles, cast on four stitches, and I stood behind him, holding my hands over his, saying "through the hole, over the stick, pop it out and slide it off." We knit four rows, and then the little guy had to go try on some clothes. When he was done, he sat down beside me again. The other clerk gave him some beads that weren't selling. He put four beads onto the ends and made a necklace.

Then he gave it to me.

I damn near cried, I was so moved.