{"id":1212,"date":"2025-11-28T13:42:39","date_gmt":"2025-11-28T13:42:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/?p=1212"},"modified":"2025-11-28T13:42:41","modified_gmt":"2025-11-28T13:42:41","slug":"my-9-year-old-son-knitted-a-scarf-for-his-dads-birthday-but-he-called-it-a-girls-hobby-so-i-taught-my-ex-a-lesson-he-wont-forget","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/?p=1212","title":{"rendered":"My 9-Year-Old Son Knitted a Scarf for His Dad\u2019s Birthday but He Called It \u2018A Girl\u2019s Hobby\u2019 \u2013 So I Taught My Ex a Lesson He Won\u2019t Forget"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

4 November 2025<\/a> newsworld_wo<\/a> Uncategorised<\/a> 0<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

When my 9-year-old son spent a week knitting a scarf for his father\u2019s birthday, I thought it would be the start of something healing between them. Instead, it shattered my son\u2019s heart and forced me to teach my ex-husband a lesson about love, masculinity, and what it really means to be a father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I never thought I\u2019d end up divorced at 36, raising my son mostly on my own, but here we are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan and I met when we were 24, back when life still felt wide open and exciting. I was fresh out of grad school, juggling late-night design projects and cheap takeout dinners.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A woman using her laptop | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was in sales and was the kind of guy who could make the entire room laugh. I fell for him fast, and we got married within a year, convinced we had everything figured out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a while, we did okay. We rented a cozy little apartment with two rescue cats, and when our son, Sam, was born, it felt like life had clicked into place. Sam was a gentle, bright-eyed baby who loved music and books more than toys. He was my calm in every storm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan, though, always seemed to want more. He wasn\u2019t a bad father. He was just\u2026 inconsistent. He\u2019d play with Sam one day and then vanish into work or happy hour the next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told myself he was just stressed, and that we\u2019d find our rhythm again. But we never did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A man looking down | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Sam was five, I discovered Stan was cheating. It wasn\u2019t a one-time thing. He was having a full-fledged affair with his coworker, Chloe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She got pregnant. I can still remember standing in our kitchen, the world tilting as he told me. He looked guilty, sure, but mostly like he wanted it to be done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The divorce was brutal. There were lawyers, custody battles, and endless arguments about money. Stan didn\u2019t want to pay child support but still demanded \u201cequal time,\u201d as if that could make up for the years he barely showed up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Divorce<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Divorce papers on a table | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the end, the court granted me full custody. Stan got visitation rights and was ordered to pay support, though he always acted as if it were charity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few months later, he married Chloe. They bought a big house in the suburbs, posted perfect little family photos online, and pretended everything was fine. I didn\u2019t fight it. I was very exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I just focused on Sam, on work, and on building something stable again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam is nine now. He\u2019s a sweet and gentle kid who loves puzzles, drawing, and knitting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A boy blowing bubbles | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He learned to knit because of my mother. She\u2019s the kind of woman who always has yarn in her purse and believes there\u2019s no problem a warm blanket can\u2019t solve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One day, when she was working on a sweater, Sam watched her hands move smoothly as the yarn looped around her needles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGrandma,\u201d he\u2019d said, eyes wide, \u201ccan you teach me how to do that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She lit up instantly. \u201cOf course, sweetheart! Grab a chair.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Watching them together that afternoon was one of those quiet, perfect moments you never forget. Sam picked it up quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A woman knitting | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within weeks, he was making little squares and then scarves for his stuffed animals. Sometimes, I\u2019d find him sitting cross-legged on the couch, tongue poking out in concentration as he tried to fix a dropped stitch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So when Stan\u2019s birthday came up last month, Sam had an idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom,\u201d he said one night, holding up a bundle of blue yarn, \u201cI want to knit Dad a scarf. He likes this color, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smiled. \u201cYes, he does. That\u2019s a beautiful idea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He worked on that scarf every evening after school. It wasn\u2019t perfect, as one end was slightly wider, and there was a tiny hole near the edge, but it was beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A knitted scarf on a table | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He even wrapped it himself in a small box lined with tissue paper, tying it with twine and tucking in a handwritten note that read, \u201cHappy Birthday, Dad. I made this just for you. Love, Sam.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When he showed it to me, my throat tightened. \u201cSweetheart, this is amazing,\u201d I said, kneeling beside him. \u201cHe\u2019s going to love it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam grinned shyly. \u201cI hope so. I want him to wear it when it\u2019s cold.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan didn\u2019t come by on his actual birthday because he was celebrating it with Chloe and their baby. But two days later, he finally showed up to take Sam for lunch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A man looking straight ahead | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I watched from the doorway as Sam ran to get the box, his excitement bubbling over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDad! I made you something!\u201d he said, handing it over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan tore the paper off casually, like he was opening junk mail. He held the scarf and stared at it for a moment, his brow furrowing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d he asked flatly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam smiled nervously. \u201cI knitted it for you. All by myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ll never forget the look on Stan\u2019s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first, it was blank confusion. Then came the smirk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A close-up shot of a man\u2019s eyes | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou knitted this?\u201d he said, holding the scarf up between two fingers like it was a dead thing. \u201cWhat are you now, some little grandma?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGrandma taught me,\u201d Sam said. \u201cI wanted to make you something special.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan laughed. \u201cKnitting? Really, Rachel?\u201d He turned toward me, shaking his head. \u201cYou let him do this? This is what he does in his free time?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStan,\u201d I warned, keeping my tone even. \u201cDon\u2019t start.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But he was already shaking his head, muttering. \u201cUnbelievable. My son, sitting around with yarn and needles like some little\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop,\u201d I snapped, but it was too late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A woman with a serious expression | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked straight at Sam, his voice rising. \u201cThat\u2019s a girl\u2019s hobby, Sam! You\u2019re supposed to play ball, not make scarves. What\u2019s next? You gonna start sewing dresses?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam\u2019s eyes filled instantly. He didn\u2019t say a word. Instead, he just turned and bolted toward his room. The sound of his bedroom door clicking shut felt louder than a slam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan didn\u2019t even seem to notice what he\u2019d done. He sighed, muttering, \u201cI\u2019m just trying to toughen him up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cToughen him up?\u201d I repeated. \u201cYou just humiliated your son for doing something creative. For making you something from his heart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A close-up shot of a woman\u2019s eyes | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan rolled his eyes. \u201cRachel, come on. Don\u2019t get all dramatic. He\u2019ll forget about it in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s when I noticed he\u2019d picked up the scissors from the kitchen drawer. My heart stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I asked slowly, already knowing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked down at the scarf, jaw tightening. \u201cIf he wants to make me something, he can draw me a picture. I\u2019m not keeping this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stepped forward fast. \u201cStan, put those scissors down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Scissors<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Scissors on a table | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t. He just stared at me. \u201cIt\u2019s my gift, Rachel. I can do what I want with it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour gift?\u201d My voice shook. \u201cThat\u2019s your son\u2019s love sitting in your hands. If you cut that, you won\u2019t just ruin a scarf. You\u2019ll destroy something he put his whole heart into.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a second, something flickered in his eyes, but it vanished just as quickly. He scoffed, tossed the scarf onto the counter, and muttered, \u201cFine. Keep it. You\u2019re a terrible influence on him, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grabbed his jacket and stormed out, slamming the door hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A doorknob | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood there and held the scarf. The blue yarn was so soft, and the scarf looked perfect, but Stan didn\u2019t see any of that. He didn\u2019t appreciate Sam\u2019s efforts, and that really broke my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I finally found the strength to move, I went to Sam\u2019s room. He was curled up on his bed, face buried in his pillow. My heart shattered at the sight of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, sweetheart,\u201d I whispered, sitting beside him. \u201cLook at me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sniffled and turned, his cheeks red and damp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A boy crying | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cListen,\u201d I said softly, brushing his hair back. \u201cWhat your dad said was wrong. You did nothing bad, okay? That scarf is beautiful, Sam. I love it. It\u2019s full of love, patience, and everything that makes you wonderful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\u2026 Dad said it\u2019s for girls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smiled gently. \u201cThen your dad doesn\u2019t know what he\u2019s talking about. You made something with your hands, and that takes skill, not gender.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sat up slowly. \u201cYou really like it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI love it,\u201d I said firmly. \u201cAnd you know what? I\u2019d be honored to wear it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A close-up shot of a woman\u2019s face | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes widened. \u201cYou\u2019d wear it? To work?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEspecially to work,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd when my coworker sees it, she\u2019d want one too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That made him smile. \u201cI\u2019ll make her one! I\u2019ve been practicing new stitches.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed softly. \u201cShe\u2019ll love that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He paused again, his little voice uncertain. \u201cBut\u2026 what if Dad still thinks it\u2019s dumb?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked him in the eye. \u201cThen we\u2019ll teach him something he\u2019ll never forget.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He blinked. \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A close-up shot of a boy\u2019s face | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll see,\u201d I said, smoothing the blanket over him. \u201cYou just keep being yourself, okay? You keep doing what you love. Leave the rest to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sam\u2019s face. No child should ever feel ashamed of something that brings them joy. And no father should be the one to put that shame there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By morning, my anger had given way to resolve. I wasn\u2019t going to yell or cry or send long texts that he\u2019d ignore. I was going to teach Stan something he wouldn\u2019t forget.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Light<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Light shining through curtains | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

First, I made myself coffee and called the one person who could help. His mother, Evelyn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had always been gracious toward me, even after the divorce. She\u2019d told me once that she wished her son had more of my patience. She adored Sam, often taking him to her house for baking sessions and movie nights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she picked up, her voice was warm. \u201cRachel, dear! How\u2019s my favorite grandson?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a breath. \u201cHe\u2019s\u2026 hurting,\u201d I said softly. \u201cStan said something awful to him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her tone shifted immediately. \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told her everything that happened. The scarf, Stan\u2019s cruel words, and how close he\u2019d come to cutting it apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a long moment, she didn\u2019t say a word. Then, in a voice trembling with anger, she said, \u201cLeave it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost smiled. \u201cI knew you\u2019d say that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d she said. \u201cMy son may not listen to his ex-wife, but he\u2019ll sure as hell listen to his mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we hung up, I called Stan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He answered on the third ring, sounding groggy. \u201cWhat now, Rachel?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m only going to say this once,\u201d I said evenly. \u201cIf you ever insult our son again, I\u2019ll make sure every parent, teacher, and client in this town knows what kind of father you really are. And I\u2019ll push for reduced visitation. You understand me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He scoffed. \u201cOh, come on\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI already told your mother,\u201d I interrupted. \u201cShe\u2019s very disappointed. Expect a call.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That shut him up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd one more thing,\u201d I added. \u201cYou might want to brush up on your facts before you call knitting a \u2018girl\u2019s hobby.\u2019 Gucci, Armani, Versace, Dior, Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss\u2014all men. All built empires around fabric and thread. So next time you open your mouth, remember that real men create.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He started to say something, but I\u2019d already hung up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A phone on a table | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next few days were peaceful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam seemed lighter, especially after I told him about the famous male designers who built their legacies from the same passion he had. He\u2019d blinked up at me in awe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait,\u201d he said, \u201cyou mean men<\/em> made all those brands?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smiled. \u201cYes. Every one of them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grinned. \u201cThen Dad was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. \u201cVery wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hugged me tight. \u201cThanks, Mom. I\u2019m gonna keep knitting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou better,\u201d I said, smiling through the lump in my throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That weekend, I proudly wore his blue scarf to the grocery store, to work, and to coffee with my friends. Every time someone complimented it, I told them, \u201cMy son made it. He\u2019s nine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their faces lit up every single time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the real moment came the following week when Stan came by for his regular visit. He looked quieter. The usual cocky grin was gone, replaced with a hesitant awkwardness I hadn\u2019t seen before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam spotted him from the window and ran to the door, uncertain but hopeful. Stan kneeled as soon as he walked in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, buddy,\u201d he said softly. \u201cI, uh\u2026 I owe you an apology.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A man looking down | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam blinked. \u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFor being a jerk,\u201d Stan said. \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have said those things about your scarf. You made something amazing, and I was wrong to laugh at it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam glanced at me, then back at his dad. \u201cDo you really think it\u2019s good?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan nodded, guilt written all over his face. \u201cI do. In fact, I was hoping I could have it back. If that\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam looked unsure. \u201cI already gave it to Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stayed quiet, letting him handle it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a moment, Sam said softly, \u201cI can make Mom a new one, so\u2026 you can have this one back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A boy in a black shirt | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He ran to the hall, grabbed the blue scarf from the hook, and handed it to his father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan took it carefully this time, as if it were something fragile. He wrapped it around his neck, looked in the mirror, and smiled awkwardly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is such a great scarf,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s my favorite now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam\u2019s whole face lit up. \u201cTold you it\u2019s good!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stan chuckled and ruffled his hair. \u201cYou\u2019re right. It\u2019s perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As they headed outside for their walk, I stood by the door, watching them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A close-up shot of a woman\u2019s eyes | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When they disappeared around the corner, I leaned against the doorframe and let out a long breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Evelyn called later that evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo,\u201d she said casually, \u201cdid he apologize?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smiled. \u201cHe did. I think he learned something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood,\u201d she replied. \u201cAbout time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, after Sam went to bed, I sat with a cup of tea, holding one of his half-finished knitting projects. It was messy and full of love, just like life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A cup of tea | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe Stan would never be the father I once wished for Sam. But that day, he took a small step toward being better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And me? I\u2019d done what I had to do. I protected my boy\u2019s light before someone dimmed it for good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes, the best lessons aren\u2019t shouted or forced. They\u2019re stitched, loop by loop, into the fabric of love, patience, and quiet strength.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And like every good scarf, it lasts a lifetime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If you enjoyed reading this story, here\u2019s another one<\/u><\/a> you might like: When my mom left, she promised she\u2019d come back \u201cwhen she was famous.\u201d She did return 15 years later, standing on my doorstep, shaking, broke, and begging for help. I used to dream of that moment, but nothing prepared me for the truth she told me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

4 November 2025 newsworld_wo Uncategorised 0 When my 9-year-old son spent a week knitting a scarf for his father\u2019s birthday, I thought it would be the start of […]<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1212","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorised"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1212","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1212"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1212\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1223,"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1212\/revisions\/1223"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1212"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1212"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstime.jkfraser.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1212"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}