The final cozy felted a bit more than the gauge swatch, leaving the bottom of my tea pot exposed, but not by much.

I think if I were to reknit this I’d add at least 3 more inches in length. Maybe just a squidge more.

The finishing was super easy, I snipped a small hole in the top to let the lid button through, and sliced holes to let through the spout and handle.

I’m going to mount googly eyes on it and make it my friend.

Where it is now.

Hopefully when it’s out of the washing machine, it’ll be suitably felted and appropriately sized to my Amsterdam teapot, then I’ll slice a openings for the handle and the spout.

I cross my fingers.

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.