Ninja Church Knitters: We Fight Dirty

The little boy looks at my knitting and then at me. “What happened to that thing you were making?” he demands, as I knit 2 and purl 2 my way through 62 stitches.

We’re sitting together on the same pew after the evening service at church—a fascinating 3 hour polemic about divorce and remarriage. Fortunately, I managed to miss half an hour of it. Now it’s over, and I’m knitting on my cardigan.

“That sleeve? I finished that yesterday. I’m making the next sleeve now.”

“Oh,” he says complacently, and tells the next small child that wanders up, “I saw her finish her sleeve yesterday.”

Which he did, along with a few more young children, all apparently fascinated with my needles. I’m the church’s only visible knitter, and the countless questions don’t stop, no matter how many times that I explain that this isn’t a skinny orange fish, it’s the left front of a cardigan. Or a sleeve. I’m always amused by the cluster of little boys that silently watch as I knit, occasionally piping up with a question or two.

 After 10 minutes, the church is emptying, and I pack up my knitting needles and yarn.

 On my way through the parking lot, a thin, tinny screech met my ears. My bad deeds had caught up with me. Towards the end of the ( very long) service I had started to make faces at the little kid sitting in front of me. We competed at eye-crossing, tongue curling and nostril flaring, capping it off with a grand finale of doing all three at once. Now he was back for revenge, wildly waving his hands and body as he struck a ninja pose.

 “Wahhhhhhhhh….HIYA!” he yelled.

 Never averse to some abitrary butt-wiggling and hand-waving, I screeched back at him. Struck by sudden genius, I snatched my spare set of size 7 needles from my bag, and started flourishing them like katanas. You don’t wanna mess with the knitters, I thought with grim satisfaction, we carry concealed weapons. At the sight of this unfair advantage, the boy screeched even louder, and we pranced around, screeching and waving like a pair of demented monkeys.

 Like all good things, this had to come to an end, and I stuffed my needles into my bag, skipping over to the car. A chorus of cheerful farewells followed me–

“HI-YAH!”

 I giggled inwardly, and didn’t mind when I later discovered that I had bent my size 4 metal needles into boomrang shapes. After all, we do have to sacrifice a little for our reputations.

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April 15, 2008. Uncategorized.

10 Comments

  1. KnitaSaur replied:

    Almost the same thing happened to me at youth group. I’m 19, and two years into college, but am allowed to hang out there (despite being too old and not quite Christian). Anywho, some grade 9 kid and I were goofing off and eventually I got named the sound ninja. Had something to do with my logo on my back 😀 He actually broke my needle, though. Don’t know how. Little DPN I was using for fetching. Very sad. My reputation was ruined.

    Lol, way to take over the comments, Dianna. Yes, I talk to myself….

  2. princesspea replied:

    Excellent bit of writing!

  3. rainin9 replied:

    Haha, that’s interesting.

  4. Chelsea replied:

    lol, that is so funny! I crocheted at Awana the other night, and I had lots of little eyes on me…lol, but I’ve never had the opertunity to make faces!!

  5. dusknstills replied:

    heh 🙂

  6. PICAdrienne replied:

    I teach Sunday school to our pre-schoolers (2-5). Oh, I can see that happening.

  7. MJ replied:

    I do the same thing if toddlers sit in front of me at Mass. The mothers can never seem to figure out why their kid keeps giggling uncontrollably 😉

  8. knittenkitten80 replied:

    You’ve got to be kidding me! Who’s kid was it, how did he know about ninjas in Cambridge!
    Points for breaking rules and making faces.

  9. sarahpurls replied:

    that’s so funny and very well written! you brightened my day. =)

  10. AJ replied:

    Wow. Genuine, the writer/blogger/moderator/knitter/ninja!

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