No More Tangles

It's PROMPTuesday #47: The Triumvirate over at San Diego Momma. Here at Blog This Mom! it is PROMPTERTuesday, which means it is Monday. Deb's early post this week coincided nicely with Laura going to bed early tonight, enabling me to write unfettered by the typical weeknight distractions of raising a nine-year-old girl.

Deb's prompt: Use in a story/poem: a skein of red yarn, a comb and a bottle of water.


No More Tangles

Aunt Pat refilled the empty bottle of Johnson’s No More Tangles with tap water from the bathroom faucet. She sprayed some on Tay-yay’s hair and began to comb out the knots. Tay-yay did not complain when Aunt Pat pulled too hard. Aunt Pat chattered away and took notice of the overall condition of Tay-yay's hair, clothing, and general appearance. Aunt Pat’s indirect observations about Tay-yay’s mother were more critical than the concern she was feigning, even to an eight-year-old’s ears, but Tay-yay was tempted to join in the criticism just to have Aunt Pat’s approval and attention.

When Tay-yay’s hair had been combed, Aunt Pat let her put on the flannel nightgown that looked a lot like the one that Karen Dotrice wore in the Mary Poppins movie. Tay-yay really wanted to be Jane Banks, with a nanny and a mother who were happy women and co-conspirators, and who at once outsmarted and dearly loved Mr. Banks. Aunt Pat and Tay-yay moved from the bathroom into the living room. Seated on the floral print sofa, Aunt Pat pulled out her knitting bag and handed Tay-yay her pair of needles, which were stuck into a small skein of red yarn.

“Has your mother taught you how to cast on or off?” asked Aunt Pat. Tay-yay replied, “She taught me to knit and purl.” “Well, you need to be able to cast on and off, too,” said Aunt Pat. “I’m surprised you didn’t learn that first,” she added with knitted brow. “I just like the knitting and purling,” said Tay-yay. “Mommy will show me how to cast off if I ask her.” Aunt Pat clicked her tongue. “I’ll show you how to do it when you’re ready,” said Aunt Pat. Tay-yay bent her head down and looked intently at the red yarn.

“What are you knitting, anyway?” asked Aunt Pat. “A potholder for my mother,” answered Tay-yay. Aunt Pat’s brow knit again. “Huh. Does your mother cook very often? I didn’t think that she did.” Tay-yay looked up and replied, “My mother is a good cook.” Tay-yay expertly took in the look of displeasure on Aunt Pat’s face and added, “She doesn’t cook as well you do, Aunt Pat.” When Aunt Pat beamed, Tay-yay looked down again and felt a sharp stab of guilt. She tried to knit and purl with greater care so that the potholder would turn out especially nice.