"What's that, darling, a choo-choo train?" Instantly he is an engine driver, chugging around the living room, so proud of his responsibilities.
Perhaps the motif echoes, or inspires, what he thinks he wants to be when he grows up.
But what happens when he has grown up . . . and loving hands continue to produce aspirational motif knitwear?
Frankly, it becomes a little embarrassing.
Even disadvantageous. While his smirk tells us that he believes himself implicitly to be the high-flier his mother's knitting needles proclaim him to be . . . others remain unconvinced.
Ninepence well spent - this one is too lovely and my particular favourite, perhaps because the props point to a lifetime of knitted motorcycle motifs having achieved the status of self-fulfilling prophecy.
Sir, not with those sleeves. In fact probably not at all.
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The decoration on the upper right was not part of the original knitting pattern. It's what happened when he wore this down to his local on darts night.
Twins are guaranteed at least one source of empathy and support.
Some poor fellows never work up the courage to tell their mothers that enough is enough. Said mothers are renowned for their long life expectancies.
447 is actually his prison number. But his mother doesn't see a gangster beneath the brim of that hat . . . he's her little dancing cowboy, and always will be.
