Hubby has decided to fight back. Throwing his sweater on the floor is no longer a valid way to control him.
The other day, when I knew the ribbing was dry after its encounter with the maple syrup, I ran upstairs to get it so I could work on it after dinner.
Of course, I made this decision just as Hubby was ready to fill our plates. Well, as soon as I crossed the threshold he launched into histrionics about slaving over the hot stove and now my food is going to be cold.
Since it took me, like, two seconds to run up, grab it, and come down, I was back in the kitchen while he was still talking.
So I held the ribbing over my head in a threatening manner.
When he saw what I was doing he pivoted and held my serving of spaghetti over the floor instead of my plate.
Obviously spaghetti on the floor was a more potent threat than knitting on the floor. You can't just pick spaghetti up and dust it off. Especially with two furry vacuums waiting to pounce on a situation like that.
I didn't realize he'd be willing to escalate the arms race to that level. We're at a stalemate now. Or would it be an impasse?
Anyway, the sweater is safe from any sudden, purposeful collisions with the ground from here on.
I'll just have to go back to fluttering my eyelashes as my primary means of bending him to my will.
The ribbing is done and I'm three colors into the body. I think I'll exchange the second ball of royal blue for a fifth charcoal. The royal blue will only have one stripe on each piece, so I have to imagine one ball will be enough.