I did not ask, even though I very much wanted to. I'd missed her talk in the Midwest because Thing Four was singing and reciting at school and what parent wants to miss a whole program about food? Not me. Instead Thing One (chaperoning non-knitter) and Thing Two went in my stead, and the last two Things and myself caught up with the YH at the signing.
But I was proud of myself. I pulled up my big girl panties and did not whine because I couldn't go to Boston.
I can't say the same for the Shetland Lace socks. They whined enough that I began to leave them plates of cheese near their carry bag (after all, every good whine should have its accompanying nibbles to munch) .
The Shetland Laces (or rather, The Shetland Lace Sock of the Present and The Shetland Lace Sock Yet to Come) were having none of it. The Sock Monkey Butt socks had their picture taken with the Harlot. The Shetland Laces were more complex and therefore lots cooler. That slightly bigger yarn over every fourth repeat in was not their fault, afer all. Surely the YH would understand that they were at the mercy of an incompetent.
I did the only thing I could think of to shut them up.
And they are satisfied. For now, anyway.