My eight-year-old niece is learning to knit. She had about 6 inches of a scarf hanging off plastic needles at a family gathering on Saturday. In the midst of said gathering, I grabbed my sister and headed off on an excersion to the local yarn store.
"Kiddo, do you want to come to the yarn store with us?" I asked her.
"What would I need more yarn for? I have yarn in my bag."
My husband joined the conversation at this point. Laughing. A lot. He looked at my niece. "You knit beautifully, but you're not quite a Knitter yet."
On Sunday, I was giving my son a piggyback ride home from the park. He was miming holding something out in front of him, over my head.
"It's a carrot hanging from string on a stick. See? I move the carrot to the direction I want you to go and then you go that way."
"I like carrots well enough, but I don't know if I like them enough for navigational motivation."
"Okay," he said cheerfully. "It's a vanilla latte on a stick."
"That'd do it."