Time to Crochet! Day 3

This whole crocheting exercise has really been an experiment in rebellion. Every pattern calls for a certain yarn to be used, and a certain hook (the most important tool for a crocheter). Instead of faithfully following the directions, trotting out to the craft store to get the exact yarn the pattern calls for and choosing the hook that it recommends, I’m using whatever yarn I have laying around and grabbing whichever hook I feel like using, even if it’s several millimeters smaller than the one that the pattern instructs me to use.


Yesterday I learned why a half double crochet works better with a hat than a single crochet, and why I should try my best to use the hook the pattern asks for, or at least the closest I can get.


My piggy hat looks like it was made for the child of a Conehead, not my adorable human child. I think that this is the result not only of my tendency to treat crocheting like it’s macrame but also because the hook I was using was five sizes too small. I don’t even have the hook it required, because it was so large. I thought, “oh, I’ll just use this one, whatever,” and grabbed one that I hadn’t used in a while.


I was paid out for my disobedience.


The last few patterns that I’ve followed have been for younger children than my almost-3-year-old, and one of them recommended that I continue working until the diameter of the hat was the desired size. The last two hats I made only took two or three more rows to reach the five and a half (or so) inches that make it big enough for my daughter’s head, but this one took forever. I probably did six or seven more rows to make it big enough. At the time, I thought, “oh, it’s just because it’s a single crochet instead of a half double,” and went on my way. But I realized that it wasn’t going to work when I did the final measure and realized that what I was making looked more like a party hat than the top of a pig’s head.


Most crocheters/knitters don’t mind having to just pull apart whatever they’ve just worked on to fix a mistake or completely start over. I’ve never liked doing that, because having the creation in my hands is usually the best part about making it. Holding it up and saying, “I made this!” But this time I don’t mind. I don’t know any Coneheads, or whether they have children.


By keeping this failure, the only thing I would be gaining is a reminder to follow directions.