Mittens.
Glorious, glorious mittens. They really aren't given enough
credit -- for some reason, people feel an absurd need to migrate from mittens to
gloves once they hit
puberty. I won't make the obvious joke about the
circumstances in which the latter might come in handier than the former.
Mittens are usually composed of
yarn, carefully
knitted by a
grandparent. They are quick to make and
utilitarian. They are worn on the hands, and have only two slots: one for the
fingers and one for the
thumb. This makes
flexibility an issue, but they keep you
very warm.
They're also much
snazzier than gloves, tending to come in more
festive colours. It's alright to have odd combinations of colours on mittens, but with gloves you're pretty much limited to
grey,
black,
brown and
white.
What's the point?
Mittens also immediately increase the
cuteness of any girl who is spotted wearing them, particularly if she's also got one of those
ski caps that tie below the chin. Especially if the knot hasn't been tied on those lengths of yarn. You can witness this by renting a
romantic comedy set in the winter. The female lead will eventually don a pair of mittens and have minor troubles with
menial tasks which require the male lead to chuckle and lend a hand.
That's all besides the point, though. I, like so many others, forsook mittens in favour of gloves and am now bereft of mittens and
disenchanted with gloves. A fabulous symbol of childhood lost, I think.
Mostly they're
cool and they didn't really have a node and now they do.