Contagion

It started Friday night.  The patient came home from school determined to learn how to spin on the wheel.  Right Now.  It should be noted that her exposure to wool fumes was not outside normal levels.  Yet.

Lindsay sat herself down at my wheel and informed me that she was going to spin, and needed my help.  Though unprompted, her action didn't surprise me too much.  Immersion breeds interest, eventually.

I threw some Corriedale roving to her from the floof stash.  She'd been working with her drop spindle off and on for over a year, with mild interest, so the basic concepts were already in place.  Turns out the only thing wrong with spindles, if you are 12, and my kid, is that they aren't fast enough.  Go figure.  She spun.  On the wheel.  Just like that. 

I tried not to die of pride.

Coincidentally (or, perhaps not?) the next day Lindsay and I went to the Abernathy Grange Spring Fiber Sale.  Just the perfect example of a little home town, homeade cookies, support-your-local-sheep kinda event.  The Mother Ship called us both home.

We each had a tiny little allowance to spend any way we wanted.  We made the rounds through all the vendor booths twice, before making any decisions.  The buttons tempted me, loudly.  Is it ever thus.

Lindsay latched onto a Sporfarm Shetland batt with surgical precision.  No waffling required; not even on the color ("Shadows").  She's like that:  Wants it how she wants it, and onto what's next.

I struggled a bit over buttons, but ultimately picked a new challenge:

Never spun Angora bunny-floof before.  I think I might just like it. 

Then we went home, where Lindsay didn't even take off her coat before she was back at the wheel, spinning the rest of her corriedale.  She decided to practice a bit more with it before moving on to the new Shetland. 

Lindsay refused to get frustrated, or to take a break, until she had banged out two complete bobbins.  Her only annoyance was a reaction to the news that her singles would need to rest overnight before we could ply them.

And rest, they did, followed by enthusiastic plying, skeining, washing and finishing.  Lindsay was really into it, too.

And this is the photo that every spinner who also makes children dreams of taking:

I know I'm supposed to be careful not to drown my children in the things I love.  Each is his/her own person, entitled to their own passions and pursuits.  But when your offspring turns out to dig the thing you do, well that's just the living end.

And if she tires of it later, and moves on to yoga, or rodeo, or rock and roll, I will cheer loudly for those, too.  Because, while none of them will be as dear to me as spinning, I'll try them out along with her, if she wants. 

After all, enthusiasm is contagious.