I made this little hat, which in this picture looks like a small, yellow boob with wings, for my husband's boss' new baby. It was supposed to be the Chicken Viking Hat version 2.0, but I was told, at the last minute and to my great disappointment, to ditch the drumsticks. It's a cute little hat without them, assuming that you plop it on the soft, fuzzy head of a baby instead of a full-grown woman with an unusually large skull.
We have no babies, having long ago decided to be wine-loving D.I.N.K.s, so I have no live model of appropriate size. See the somewhat blurry image of the full bar in the background? Sure, I could have pulled the hat over the bottom of a liquor bottle, and it probably would have stretched to about the right size and photographed nicely. But, childless and non-maternal though I am, even I know that dressing up my high-end vodkas in baby clothes and taking pictures is probably a little morally wrong.
Buddy the Cat has declined to be photographed wearing acrylic blends. (It demeans us both, the Woman. - BtC) Therefore, it falls to me to model this hat. I'm aware that it makes me look like I have a head the size of a fully inflated four-square ball.
For balance, here's an adult-sized hat, knit for my dad for Christmas. Now, it's big. I'm not saying it's not. That brim can be unrolled all the way down to mid-ear for me, and down to the chin when worn by my beloved husband, Accountant Boy. My dad wears it golfing, and it doesn't roll up and off the top of his head the way that most stocking caps are prone to do. Big cap, to be sure. But not freakishly big. Right? We're just like normal folk, right? (Daddy, why are those villagers coming toward us with pitchforks and cargo nets??? I don't WANT to join the circus!)
Lest you should wonder, here's DaddyBanana.
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