My silly boy

Back when I was in high school my mom came up with the "great" idea to make counted cross stitch christmas stockings for my brother, sister and I. Since the hope was to have them done while we were all still living at home, she enlisted my help. Long story short, I not only made my brother's, sister's and my own stocking, I went on to make them for my neice and nephew, husband and parents. Making them for my children is no longer an option... it's simply a must do.

So I've had G's stocking for well over 3 years now (found it while shopping for mom and dad's stockings, and since it was being discontinued, I just had to purchase it, never mind that I didn't even have a child on the horizon). Considering the "vast" experience that I have, I know that making these stockings is no easy task as they take some serious time and attention.

Apparently "vast" experience is entirely over-rated. Did I start G's stocking when we found out last September that he was, for sure, a boy (seriously, he flashed the ultra sound tech)? Of course not. Relying heavily on my newly discoverd procrastination skills, I didn't start G's stocking until May.

So now I am working like a mad-woman to get it done. I take it to work with me for lunch breaks. Stay up way later than I should at night after he's gone to bed. And occasionaly, when he's in the mood to entertain himself, I work on it while he's playing. The other day was one such day. He was in a great mood, totally into playing in his jumper so I decided to whip out the stocking and get a little work done. Several minutes in I realized that the house had gone silent. I no longer can hear G in his jumper. I look up from the stocking and this is what I see...