Once upon a time there was some yarn. It was Blue-faced Leicester yarn [in dk weight from Yarn Pirate]. Wool from Blue-faced Leicester sheep makes very soft yarn, much like merino — perfect for a baby’s sensitive skin.

That yarn, you see, wanted nothing more than to go and live with a baby. It had heard tales of babies’ silky hair and tiny fingers and big eyes, and thought that sounded like the perfect companion for the yarn’s later years.

Yarn can be dangerous to babies. They lack coordination and can end up tangled, a bad situation for both wool and baby. The yarn didn’t want to be a hazard, so it knew it had to wait for its adventures to begin.

It spent some time in Washington state, soaking up the ocean air, before travelling across the country to a knitter who welcomed it to her urban home with open arms.

The yarn’s lovely purpleness was admired and petted, but it didn’t want to stay in the skein. It wanted to show off its colors better. The yarn convinced a knitter to wind it up.

It was again admired, but it was not left idle for long.

The knitter found a pattern worthy of such pretty yarn and began to knit. Round and round her needles flew, until she reached the line in her pattern that said to begin filling the knitting with stuffing.

A quest! The yarn rejoiced, but in a quiet, dignified way, befitting of one destined to spend much time with a sleeping baby. Eventually, polyfil was procured in the country of Georgetown, although not before the many false starts and curtailed business hours customary of such a story.

A feast seemed in order to welcome the polyfil to the kingdom. In order to honor its Georgetown origin, a cupcake was sent for (not, however, from the same shop). Such a celebration may be optional, the yarn thought, but the knitter assured the wool that it was important to mark special occasions.

And so the yarn and the polyfil were joined together. Wisps of polyfil and stitches of yarn cozied up to one another. They seemed happy, as if they were meant to be together.

Periodically, the knitter would seem to conclude part of what the yarn and the polyfil were destined to become. She patiently explained that it wasn’t really an ending because she would return to a spot and begin to knit a new section. She assured the two that this was important because there was still an unfinished cat lurking around from her seventh-grade home-ec days, and she could not risk condemning them to a similar fate.

A head formed. Then a body. Legs were added, one at a time, then arms.

The yarn was pleased with the progress. It admired the loveliness of the swirl of its decreases. [Think it looks great on a hat? Imagine it on a tiny creature. Too perfect…]

The day arrived for the yarn to make its debut to the queen of the land. Unfortunately, the knitter, like the Grimms’ sister of swans, was not able to finish in time. She despaired, before remembering that her queen was a best friend of nearly 20 years and might be willing to pardon (and be unsurprised by) tardiness. She carefully wrapped her present up — complete with needles — and gently packed it into a gift bag. She wanted the yarn’s introduction to the matriarch to go well.

As soon the creature had been cooed over, the knitter requested a boon of the mama-to-be and asked to be reunited with her creation. Frantically, she worked, trying to finish him before the shower ended, but the grafting gods scorned her and chastised her for her hurry. Anything worth doing, they reminded her, was worth doing well and, sometimes, with undivided attention.

So the yarn, now in the form of a Van Gogh-like pachyderm, returned to D.C. His second ear was stitched on, and the knitter breathed a sigh of relief, because, frankly, his final few limbs had been getting rather fiddly.

Now physically complete, the elephant needed a few finishing touches added to his soul. The knitter cuddled him a lot. She attempted to embue him with a sense of being loved and secure and well, so he could share that with his new friend. She whispered to him all the wonderful wishes she had for his friend, knowing he’d share them later, because elephants never forget.

She carried him about by his various limbs. This was purely a safety test, of course. You wouldn’t want to give a baby a dangerous toy. The elephant did his best to be sturdy and reliable, but still snuggly.

The knitter delivered the elephant to the queen mama-to-be before her delivery date, because it would not do to hold up the real star’s big debut.

World, meet Elijah, the embodiment of one yarn’s dreams.

Elijah, meet the world.