Yes, I am that kind of Gramma. The kind the kids hate to get gifts from because they know exactly what it is. In my case, hand knitted socks from home spun and dyed wool yarn.
Long about June or July, I trace around the little peoples feet, marking both the position of the ankle and the ball of the foot. This one tracing gives me measurements for both mittens and socks. Then I spin up the undyed wool.
This last year, Red Boy was old enough at 3.5 years to help out a bit. He was very curious about the process of spinning, and he really got a kick out of thwacking the freshly dyed yarn against the side of the house before setting out to dry.
Yet, when he opened up his gift, he looked so dejected and forlorn, he cried – loudly – and tossed them away. Orange Boy quickly followed suit. Yellow Boy is still to young, but he cried too!
I told their Momma that I expected them to get tired of socks at some point, perhaps at the ripe old age of nine, or so. I just did not expect it to happen at 3. My heart was broken, and try as I might, I did take it personally. After all, this IS a competition for Granny supremacy! My grand kids have to like me better than the other Gramma, right? Now I think my chance for the title of Gramma of the year is jeopardized. How can I repair this damage?
Then I got a text from my daughter … “Guess who wanted his Christmas stockings before bedtime?” Woo-hoo! Who’s your Gramma now!?