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A Legacy of Grandmotherly Insight

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I would like to take a quick moment to say thank you to Indigogold and Angus MacNab for giving these a read through for me. Thank you guys!

Prompt 31 : Knitting

A Legacy of Grandmotherly Insight

"What are you doing?" Chuck asked, his head tilting to the side as he came to a stop near the edge of his sister's living room. He had a plate full of snacks and two glasses of wine balanced in his hands and he bent to set them down on the coffee table.

His mother sighed with exasperation and let her hands fall into her lap. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing, Chuck?"

"Honestly?" Chuck started, sitting down in the chair across from her and giving her his smart ass grin. "I'm not sure… torturing a small, colorful sheep perhaps?"

"You think you're funny, but you're not," was her response and she picked up her project and started again, though by now even she knew it was useless.

"I'm sorry mom, but in all this time I just never imagined you as the type."

"What type is that?" she demanded, clearly affronted. "I know I was a lousy and completely absent mother and I just… really want to make up for it in the grandmother department."

"Surely there must be other ways," he said looking at the mass in her lap that trailed misshapenly to the floor. "Ways more suited to your particular… well, just other ways. Have you tried baking?"

She humphed.

"What exactly are you making anyway?"

"A blanket," she said and she seemed a little sad he hadn't realized that on his own.

"Oh, I thought maybe it was a sweater."

She glanced up at him and then held it up, looking it over. "Oh, does it look like a sweater?" she asked. Maybe she could adjust her plan…

"No," Chuck said, shaking his head, then he burst out laughing.

Mary Bartowski glared at her only son, stood to her feet and tossed the entire mass at his head. He managed to block the needles from doing any damage but got tangled in the strands of yarn nonetheless. Note to self, he thought, intersect useless against attack by yarn. "Where are you going?" he asked as he tried to disengage himself from the would-be blanket.

"I'm going to go work on my other project" she said looking back at him, her smile as cheeky as any of his had ever been.

"And what is that exactly?" Chuck asked, nervous.

"An illustrated children's guide on the proper handling and disposal of live explosives." She blinked her big blue eyes at him and left the room.

Chuck sat, a little stunned for a moment, then looked down at the knitted abomination in his hands. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was just teasing, I think it's a perfectly fine sweater – blanket! I meant blanket. It's gonna be great. The colors are…" he looked at them helplessly, at a loss to describe the puce and greenish-brown combination. Luckily, he was saved from having to continue by the arrival of his wife and child.

"What are you going on about?" Sarah asked, plopping his daughter in his lap. He took hold of the baby by the waist and smiled at her automatically, nuzzling her tiny button nose. She immediately started smacking his face with her chubby hands.

"My mother," he said after enjoying his daughter for a moment, "Is making a children's book about bombs."

Sarah laughed and flopped back in her chair. "Really?"

"I don't know… I insulted her knitting, so this could just be revenge." He bounced Charlotte, gently on his knees. "Maybe I should stop her."

"I wouldn't," Sarah said, holding a colorful rattle toward her daughter and shaking it gently. "This family? They'll probably need it."

Chuck just couldn't argue with that.