I pulled out my trusty sewing machine again yesterday, and remade this:
I ask you, how many men could buy their 7 months pregnant wife a cow suit and live to procreate again? In fact, it was from our favorite ice cream store in Whistler, and a very nice cotton flannel, although I only wore it a couple of times. The problem was that in order to go pee, which I was doing approximately 487 times a night at that stage, I had to unbutton the thing to the waist, wiggle out of the top, and drop the whole business to my ankles. Not only was this time consuming, but we were living at that time in an extraordinarily drafty little cottage - so it was cold, too.
Romantic that I am, I thought it would be a lovely sort of continuity to turn it into a flannel nightgown for my DD. In the end it was, but not before she had half tried it on, pronounced the sleeves a fraction too long, demanded that I remake the whole thing, tried to slam my sewing machine shut when I refused, spent a long time-out in her room for that, followed by a serious Dad chat, a heartbreakingly sincere apology and a lovely long hug. She's now been wearing it for the last 24 hours and has declared her inviolable intent never to remove it. Which should make for some high drama come Monday morning. I'm sure she was sent to teach me something - many days though, I just feel utterly inadequate to the task.
Here for posterity, is the remodelling process:
In other news, the first sock is finished, and fits perfectly:
My DH was astounded (first time ever my knitting has had that effect on him) by the alchemy of seamlessly producing a perfectly fitted sock. It would appear the next pair will be his.