Saturday Siblings ~ Whovians

I’ve only seen two episodes of Doctor Who: “Blink”—which scared the wee out of me. The second was the one with the baby who fancied himself some kind malevolent ruler of the universe. I watched because I was pregnant with Ollie and we needed a baby name. I crossed Stormeggedon, Dark Lord of All off our list. His real name was Alfie, sweet chap.

With my shallow understanding of all things Doctor and Who, it’s a marvel I have all these kids who are crazed fans. While they watch, I retire upstairs with a book or something. I totally support it, however. I’ve made a Tardis birthday cake, bought toy daleks, numerous pithy t-shirts, and survived debates over The Best Doctor. Aidan made a penguin, which she dressed in a fez and bowtie. Of course.

Recently, someone yarn-bombed an old British phone booth that sits in front of a theater in Olde Town Arvada, a suburb of Denver. We heard about it from a Whovian friend. I took four of the kids to see it yesterday, relieved it was still there. I took them for two reasons. I knew they’d adore it and I wanted them to see a real-life example of yarn-bombing, which is a thing these days. I regret not taking them to see the yarn Colorado flag underpants on a huge naked statue in downtown Denver, so I wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass.

Tommy, Sam, Tardis, Beatrix, Joel

Sam, using his imagination

I examined the panels. Obviously, the work of many knitting geeks putting their heads together to make something cool for the masses.

Public Call Box has never been more snuggly adorable

Full-length glamour shot

Squares

More squares

More squares, and a tiny hole