Last week at a bookstore, I pointed out a boys' sweater (jumper) in the latest issue of Simply Knitting, a British magazine, to my son. Said sweater had an intarsia Union Jack. I adore any clothing/household items/cheap souvenirs that include the Union Jack. I am a total slut for the Union Jack.
"I could knit you one," I said, tamping down the hope from creeping into my voice.
"I hate blue," he said. True.
"You like flags," I reasoned.
"I like the German flag best ... and it has no blue."
I'm sorry, but knitting a German flag into a sweater just doesn't do it for me.
I finally threw in the towel and gave in to the pleading. "But you could wear this Union Jack sweater to school on April 29 ... that's when Prince William, who's going to be the king of England someday -- the KING -- is getting married. I could whip this out in no time. You'd be so cool."
Oliver fixed me with a disdainful look. "I have no interest in being cool, mom. Give it up."
And that is that.