The Revenge of the Sock Snatcher
Somewhere I have a photo of an over-full sock drawer. Or I might have deleted it because it was just too demotivating.
Instead you get a picture of shoes of me and one of the sock owners.
It so happened that I spent nearly a year as a nanny for three adorable little girls. We had lots of fun together, and the photo is from a day when we all went to the park to feed ducks.
The thing about going on an adventure is that you generally have to wear shoes.
The thing about wearing shoes is that you generally have to wear socks.
Most people tend to wear matching socks. (Not everyone - I have a dear friend who wears mismatched socks and it just makes everything so much more fun.)
When there are three little girls who all need socks before you can leave the house, it's not particularly fun when the sock drawer has about 28 socks in it. With about 23 different styles and colours and patterns and sizes of socks.
If you paused to do the math, that leaves only about 5 socks that might be considered as matching. And if there are 6 feet... and if this happens on a regular basis... it's not such a practical situation.
That year, I vowed that if and when I had kids, they would not have such a sock drawer. I was further inspired by minimalist blog posts and a general lack of patience for sock scrounging when I'm in a hurry or hungry, both of which happen with a baby in tow.
Pippin currently only owns white socks. When he needs his feet covered, I reach in, grab out two socks, and put them on his feet.
This is good.
Unfortunately, not all of them fit.
This is less good.
White socks seem to be oddly unpopular in my city.
Even less good.
Which explains why today I was out doing errands and came home exuberant, triumphant, gloating at what I had achieved.
To the cashier who gets to go home and tell her family about the crazy mother who bought 24 tiny white socks today ("Will she use them as party favours? Craft items? Filters? Does she have octuplets or run an orphanage?")....
You're welcome.
Instead you get a picture of shoes of me and one of the sock owners.
It so happened that I spent nearly a year as a nanny for three adorable little girls. We had lots of fun together, and the photo is from a day when we all went to the park to feed ducks.
The thing about going on an adventure is that you generally have to wear shoes.
The thing about wearing shoes is that you generally have to wear socks.
Most people tend to wear matching socks. (Not everyone - I have a dear friend who wears mismatched socks and it just makes everything so much more fun.)
When there are three little girls who all need socks before you can leave the house, it's not particularly fun when the sock drawer has about 28 socks in it. With about 23 different styles and colours and patterns and sizes of socks.
If you paused to do the math, that leaves only about 5 socks that might be considered as matching. And if there are 6 feet... and if this happens on a regular basis... it's not such a practical situation.
That year, I vowed that if and when I had kids, they would not have such a sock drawer. I was further inspired by minimalist blog posts and a general lack of patience for sock scrounging when I'm in a hurry or hungry, both of which happen with a baby in tow.
Pippin currently only owns white socks. When he needs his feet covered, I reach in, grab out two socks, and put them on his feet.
This is good.
Unfortunately, not all of them fit.
This is less good.
White socks seem to be oddly unpopular in my city.
Even less good.
Which explains why today I was out doing errands and came home exuberant, triumphant, gloating at what I had achieved.
To the cashier who gets to go home and tell her family about the crazy mother who bought 24 tiny white socks today ("Will she use them as party favours? Craft items? Filters? Does she have octuplets or run an orphanage?")....
You're welcome.
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