So he calls it felt, when technically it's fill or poly-fill. Makes no difference. Lately, it's been the source of all sorts of fun. Picture this. I'm hunched over the sewing machine, deadline pending. The machine is whirring at a frantic pace as felt bits are meticulously stitched onto cotton pieces. Pins are sticking out at all sorts of crazy-odd angles and poking my fingers like angry bees.
Channing's laughter, the true soundtrack of my life, rings loud and clear. Once again, he's stolen the bag of 'felt' (poly-fil). This time, he's emptied the contents all over the dining room floor. He's scooping it up in huge piles, alternately pretending he's sitting in/on a cloud or throwing snowballs at me. In an instant, both of us are shrieking with laughter.
The sewing gets tossed aside for the time being as we get caught up in a felt war. In no-time, it looks like a sheep with a severe shedding problem has invaded our home. Bits of fluff are everywhere. I'm talking EVERYWHERE. In the middle of it lies a sweet little boy, pretending to be 'zausted (exhausted). Pretending, I know, as his body occasionally twitches with laughter.
Eventually, I did manage to recapture all the bits of fill, a good portion of which ended up in here:
This bitty doll made her way to New Mexico this past weekend. She's a gift for our sweet niece, Evelyn who celebrated her first birthday. While I wasn't there to witness the unwrapping, I was told Dolly Evelyn's appearance was met with tears of joy. That makes all of those 'bee stings', every single one of them well worth it.
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