I asked for a random topic on Twitter last night. Little did my tweetin’ tweeps know, I was going to take the topic and run with it for this blog post. The first response? Socks--via my Canadian girl Tara. P.E.R.F.E.C.T. Here we go…
Socks. How do I LOATHE thee? Let me count the ways.
1) The people who make you for toddlers have plotted a conspiracy against parents by putting six different pairs of socks in the same package. Oh, they all look similar, but they aren’t the same! I bought Sweetie Pie & Boogaboo each a six-pack of you. All the of you were white, but each pair of you had distinguishing markings. (which could not be seen because of the packaging)Three pair of you in the set had a gray heal. The other three a navy one. BUT of the three gray ones, one pair had two gray stripes around the top, one pair one gray stripe around the top, and the third no gray stripe. Ditto on the navy. Whyyyyyy? Are you trying to make me lose my mind? Make all the flippin’ socks white (with the size on the bottom—I actually so appreciate that) and be done with it already. Amen.
2) Folding you is a PAIN IN MY ARSE! Seriously. You sit in my laundry basket well after all of the other laundry has been put away. In fact at this very moment, my family is having to dig through the basket to find a pair of you to wear. I will go through 10 rounds of laundry before I admit defeat and finally sit down, bump you out of the basket, & pair you up. And I curse you the entire time I have to do it. Every. Single. Time.
3) Keeping track of those of you that Boogaboo takes off is a NIGHTMARE. What is up with toddlers and socks??? I mean really. Is it that difficult to keep the things on? I find socks in the most random of places. Purse. Garage. Pantry. Blanket drawer. Under car seats. In the yard. And the really strange part? It’s ALWAYS the right one. Never the left. I know this because his right foot is always the one that he strips the shoe and sock off of. To be fair, Socks, this one really is something you don’t control, but you are involved and the situation is maddening. So I blame you.
4) The washer and dryer eat you. Hence the reason you are a pain in my arse to fold. When I do finally get around to matching you up, half of you no longer have mates. At least no mates that are clean. You must be the washers payment for cleaning clothes. Like one load of clean clothes costs me 5 random socks. All from a different set. Just to make the task of matching the socks up more fun. You know. Because I don’t have enough to do around here.
Ahhhh, I feel better. Thanks Tara.