I bought myself a pack of six pair of white crew socks. New white socks always reminds me of the difficult time I had keeping my own socks while raising my three kids.
My first two children are two years apart and then the space between my middle child and my last child is two years and ten months. So they spent much of the growing up involved in the same activities. All three of them played soccer in the spring and base/softball in the summer and eventually came a period where they (and I) could all wear the same size socks. I bought the twelve pack of white long crew socks with the idea that we could each have three pair.
Somehow I never ended up with clean white socks. The ones the kids wore had ground-up dirt from the fields and I didn't especially want to wear those, even after they had been washed in bleach. The next time I bought a twelve pack, I wrote MOM in big, black permanent marker letters on the sole of my three pair. I figured no tween and young teen would want to wear MOM socks. My socks still disappeared! I looked through the laundry, the sock orphanage, and then began to ask if any of the three had my socks. All of them denied it. It was a mystery.
I kept looking and asking but my MOM socks were no where to be found. Until one evening, when we were finally home from the games and the kids were cleaning up. My older daughter was in the shower and my son was on the sofa. He had taken off his shoes, placing them carefully side-by-side in the middle of the living room, and was clicking through the TV channels.
My younger daughter walked through and then called, "Mom, I found your socks." I stepped out of the kitchen to see her pointing to her brother's feet. He had on my MOM socks.
"Why are you wearing my socks?"
"I'm not," he replied with great confidence. "I'm wearing my socks."
"No, you have on my MOM socks."
He looked at his feet and then he said, "I thought it said WOW for being a great player."
He kept the socks.
No comments:
Post a Comment