*Not Actual Size

Unnoticed by me, my family have been observing me, in my natural habitat.  Campbell, in particular, has drawn some conclusions about my lifestyle as a knitter, now that the pressure of book writing has caused me to go feral.  I haven't looked up in a while.  Like, Days.

He presented me yesterday with this scale model of his mother, working:

Originally, there was also a Lego Daddy (wearing a tuxedo, natch) who stood by looking helpless but supportive.  Unfortunately, the cat knocked him off and batted him somewhere inaccessible before I could find the camera.  I think it's important to know that Lego Daddy is there in spirit, in spite of the feline predation. 

Campbell's tableau includes all the details of my native environment, right down to the ball of yarn parked on my desk.  The only thing missing is a bottle of gin, but let's assume that's hidden under the desk.

It's just possible that my family are not receiving enough of my attention at the moment.  Luckily, it looks like I'm receiving theirs.

In Lego We Trust.