sorrow

My friend MC told me this story today:

My TaTa called me a stupid clumsy girl. All the socks and mittens we wore as kids were made by her. She taught me to knit. So I started a scarf. She would rip out my work in disgust, and redo it herself. After the third time she did this, I said "no, its ok, that mistake doesn't bother me," but she ripped it out anyway. And so I decided that scarf wasn't mine, and I wouldn't knit anymore. I was in second grade when I lost that career possibility.