Admittedly, I had gotten cocky. After sneaking the odd mascara and shampoo bottle through airport security, I thought I could get away with this:

With bamboo yarn on the needles, I needed something stronger than my teeth to do some slicing. So I threw caution to the wind. Not only did I bury a Chibi in my tote, I also took the knife. My pink Swiss Army knife. Given to me by a boyfriend years ago, who I liked well enough, but not as much as the tool pictured above.

At the security checkpoint I threw everything onto the conveyor belt. The suitcase went through. My shoes. Laptop. Then the bag in question. The TSA agents peered at the screen. Then reversed the conveyor. "Is this your bag?" a gentleman asked.

You know the drill. You stand there sheepishly directing the nice man to the offending object. "The knitting bag," I said. "You'll find it in the knitting bag."

He pulled it out, triumphantly, as if he had just extracted a gold tooth.

"I suppose you have to take it," I said.

"Yup. Unless you want to mail it back to yourself or check your bag." At 6:30 in the morning with a plane to catch?

At least they left the Chibi.