flying accessories for small supernaturals

special thanks to the models- pumpkin head and star wars drone lamp.

the new supernatural nephew called me up the other day. "boy, that snow sure is cold!" he gushed. thinking about the snow we'd been enjoying up in the catskills, i agreed. but the child lives in missouri and they've been having sixty degree days lately. i'm pretty sure he's not seen snow unless it was in the first weeks of his life, a time even he won't remember. but he continued chirping on about the snow, how cold it was, how his fingers got red from touching it. but i was having none of it. the original supernatural nephew had been much easier. this one is to all outward appearances a happy, cooing angel, but to those of us dealing with his "specialness" he's becoming quite the little imp. he will solemnly promise that he won't summon dragons from the center of the earth and then five minutes later there are dragons pouring out of every mole hole in the yard. so i knew he was up to something.

"where did you see snow?" i asked as levelly as i could. he stammered around a bit, tossed out the names of a few local towns, none of which were covered in snow, then fell silent. "i knew it!" i yelled into the phone. "you're not supposed to be flying by yourself!" i don't know why i say these things. it's not like he doesn't know. he could break his neck. he's not yet a year old and he has no finesse to his flying. he flies the way thirteen year olds drive. "where?" i demand again. he talks breathlessly about a trip to antarctica. "antaractica? what? you couldn't find colorado?" giggles on the other end. this child really is impossible. his words are apologetic but it is pretty clear that he is now in love with penguins. emperor penguins. those i know. but also something called adelie penguins. "they can do anything!" he whispers. i have lost this battle before it started. i can't really compete with penguins. he raves about the ocean. icebergs. snow. snow. snow. his only lament is how cold his little ears and fingers get when he flies.

this is why he called. he wants me to help him. he's discovering new skills every day and i suggest he try to get fire to come out of his ears. that would keep them warm. he giggles. everything is funny to this child. he already has a solution. he wants a hat and mittens. but not just any kind. fancy ones. fine i say. whatever. i'm in way over my head. he is learning from his older cousin about persistence. "they might be the difference between life and death!" he tries. dramatic. i suggest staying home in his crib like a good baby instead of flying off to antarctica with half-developed flying skills might also be the difference. more giggles.

he begins describing. the hat should be soft and light. it can't fall down over his eyes but should keep his ears warm. he wants some mechanism to keep the thing from falling off while he flies. "if it falls off in the ocean," he says, "it's gone for good. sharkfood." i try to ignore the image of sharkfood and listen about the hat. something to let the penguins know he's freindly. a tassel or pompom on top would be good. i am pretty sure i can do this. "and the mittens," he continues. "the mittens need to be entirely for flying. aerodynamic. no thumbs. i laugh to myself because thumbless mittens are what people get for babies. i don't tell him. he likes to think he's not a baby. "they need to be long like the gloves knights wore." and again with the loss issue. "a cord with some sort of fastener." i think to myself about the cords on mittens for babies, the kind that attach to a mitten, run through the sleeves of a coat and then attach to the other mitten. i don't mention this. no problem, i say. "but i don't want to look strange," he says. "can you make snap on thumbs i can put on when i land so i'll look normal and blend in? i don't want people knowing they're flying mittens." i think about it. his thumbs are pretty small. i could probably attach a button to a bit of i-cord. i tell him i'll try.

i figure he'll want something to match some ridiculous costume he's working up so i ask. some bright hideous color combination that will blind me as i knit. his name stitched across the front. "oh, no!" he says, "nothing like that. can you make it look like the ocean and the sky? i want to blend in a bit." i am pretty sure i know a yarn that will work and i say so. i'm expecting one of those amelie penguins to be waiting for me under the christmas tree. it better be cute and it better be compatible with dachshunds.