Yesterday, Carol suggested in the comments that I get Jamie some yarn of his own to mess with in hopes he will leave the yarn alone that I am trying to knit with.
In thinking about this, I spent a little time confusing what I've read in books about raising babies with what I've read in books about training dogs (which means Jamie is in for an interesting childhood if I can't start keeping these two topics straight), particularly the part that says you should never give a dog an old shoe to chew on, because dogs can't tell old shoes from new shoes and the dog will start destroying every shoe it finds.
But I thought, heck, I'll give this a try, so I dug in the stash and came up with a few odds and bobs of acrylic and mystery yarns people gave me when they heard I had taken up knitting.
It's been remarkably successful. I sit on the rug and knit and he sits on the rug next to me happily - and quietly - pulling at the balls and making a huge tangle.
"Look," he says, "Something Angus and I can do together!"
I wonder how long it will be until he figures out that to really have fun with yarn, you need some needles.