I'm not a huge fan of socks. Or shoes for that matter. If I could go straight from flip flop season to Ugg season, I would be content.
But fall insists on happening every year.
Since I am an adult, I can suck it up and put on some socks and shoes every day for a few months each year. My children have not yet reached that point.
"My Crocs!" They cry every day when it's time to leave the house.
"It's fifty degrees out."
After much sweet talking, finagling, bribing, and wrestling, I can usually get their feet covered and get them out the door. But as soon as we get home again, the shoes come off (which is encouraged) and so do the socks.
And they disappear into the abyss.
We bought BG a 12 pack of socks a month ago. Two nights ago, we were headed out to a dinner party, and the socks she had worn that morning were gone, so I ran upstairs to grab a new pair.
No socks in her drawer. 20 different socks in the clean laundry basket, but no matches. No dirty socks on the hamper.
I let out a blood curdling roar. My husband called up the stairs, asking if I was okay and pointing out that perhaps my reaction was a bit irrational.
I exhaled. Grabbed two almost matching socks. Added kid socks to my shopping list.
Fist bump, Sisyphus. I'll trade you that rock for some socks.