Cutest nightmare fuel ever.

Candy + Sushi = candy sushi.

I’ve wanted to do this since spotting this Make: How to.

I made the rice crispy treat base, but everything else was a group effort with the kids right down to the roe eggs and oddly placed jelly & marshmallow frogs on the board. Lexi even added her own chopsticks next to the ‘ginger.’

Clean up was a breeze (it mostly involved the phrase “Eat the extras and put the wrappers in the garbage”– there were no complaints.)

Once I decide on a tried and true thing it’s very hard for me to change brands, or even styles within a brand. I debated for days, then weeks, and then timidly added harmony interchangable needles and cables to my shopping cart. I must have read the description at least a hundred times before completing the order (that’s the thing with monomania, it is an OCD and not a terribly fun one at that.) I ordered a set of size 4 and a set of size 6, along with 24″ and 32″ cables.

They are beautiful. The joins to the cable are smooth and the tips are perfectly pointylicous.

Lexi’s baby doll provided the perfect opportunity to try out the size 4 needles. The green and white sweater was done on size 0 bamboo needles, yarn is 2-ply Falkland sock yarn that I spun up last year or the year before last. The purple and blue yarn is 2 ply merino sportweight that I dyed and spun around the same nonspecific time frame. I knit that one using my new needles, I love my new needles.

Love love love!

Thinking I was really clever I measured, sewed and cut the button holes. Assembled said buttons from coordinating scraps and fixed them to the front of the frock.

Lexi seemed to have forgotten all about the coveted frog buttons and wore the frock around the house, happily twirling and twisting the long hemmed skirt of it, testing it for tricycle safety and showing it off to her brother and father.

Then my husband informed me that she’d taken off the dress and left it in my sewing area. Now there’s only one reason anyone leaves anything in the sewing area and thats for mending.

I picked up the dress wondering if one of the seams had given way, or if indeed the hemline was not exactly tricycle proofed.

No.

It’s missing a button.

“Lexi, what happened to the button?”

“I cut it off.”

“Why?”

“It was wet.”

“How did it get wet?”

“There was spit on it.”

“How did it get spit on it?”

“I spit on it.”

“You spit on it and cut it off your dress?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to fix it.”

“Oh, you need a button!” Lexi produces the card of frog buttons.

Now at this point I have to give her credit for being persistent if nothing else and for planning ahead to create some kind of (demented as it may be) cover story. I could have asked her why she spit on the button in the first place, but I figure that’s probably self evident as she seems to hate all buttons excluding the frog buttons.

And wait.

And do a little more waiting.

I finished another frock for Lexi, all but the buttons. I don’t exactly know why some of her dresses are “dresses” and some are “frocks” but she differentiates the two and this one is a “frock.” The mind of a four year old is a mysterious thing. I have buttons for it somewhere but we’re having creative differences. I want to sew modest matching blue-gray plastic buttons onto the dress and she wants bright green frog buttons.

Usually I’ll go along with her requests, this time– no. The bright green frog buttons are slated for use on another dress (frock?) that I’m going to make using pink printed fabric that features bright green frogs. The cuteness quotient of the next dress (or frock) will be off the scale with those buttons and I am *not* using the frog buttons before that dress (or frock) is made.

This has resulted in the disappearance of the blue-gray buttons.

Well played Lexi. Well played.

In a house full of gameboys, comics, books, and movies that my child chooses knitting. Sweet.

And speaking of games. Darling husband decided that I should have a Nintendo DS lite, and Pokémon Pearl to go along with it. So my free time is currently being consumed traveling through the Sinnoh region filling my pokédex and battling team Galaxy. I just beat the 8th gym leader and I’m leveling up before challenging the elites.

If you have no idea what that means, you’re probably a mature adult. However, I am not a mature adult. Case in point, mature adults are not tempted to declare “Mortal Kombat!” when they see a really good sale on yarn. Or shout out “Merino! I choose you!” when shopping for sock yarn.

You have to admit some yarns do sound like Pokémon names. Koigu? It could be a yarn or it could be a water type Pokémon that oozes silk. You just never know, it’s not limited to yarn, knitting needles too. Addi Turbos could possibly be a hold item to boost speed in battle and help you escape from wild Pokémon.

Now I suppose because I really liked that yarn and I have to spin more.

I know what’s it is destined to be; Lexi said as soon as she saw it “Yarn slippers!” For a three year old she’s pretty good at seeing uses for materials.

There’s barely enough for a pair of womans slippers, but plenty for preschooler big girl slippers. Big girl slippers for the soon to be 4 year old sound like a pretty good idea.

While the girl child is just now learning how to knit on a loom, the boy child has taken to sewing.

On my sewing machine.

Which, at times, hurts my brain. I have this standing rule with myself that I will not, ever, under any circumstances fix, fuss, or fiddle with my children’s craft projects– ever. Not because I’m mean and don’t want to help, but because I have perfectionist tendencies that I think my children can live without.

So that means I get to stand back and watch, give advice when I’m asked, and provide proper safety oversight. Fortunately Josey saw me impale my thumb with the needle of the machine a few years back, and he’s scarred for life duly cautious.

I was using a sewing machine (hell, lets be honest, I was using power tools and a gas lawn mower too) unsupervised when I was eight, it was a different time though. Still I boggle. What were my parents thinking? Every time Josey sits down at the sewing machine, my day stops and I’m right there until he’s done. I’m caught between feeling like a paranoid overprotective parent and a responsible one.

And before anyone gives me any guff for teaching my male child to sew or knit let me say this: It has nothing to do with undermining the macho factor, it has everything to do with learning to be a self sufficient adult.