“WHERE THE HECK ARE MY SOCKS?”
This is a question that I unfortunately ask (yell) all too often in the mornings. This was a new problem for me when the 2018-2019 school year began. My two oldest boys were entering the 7th and 5th grades. Up to this point they have always fought over their child sized socks. They are two years apart and close enough in age and size that they have grown up duking it out over who gets the socks when they come out of the dryer. For me, I’ve always thought that putting your dirty socks in your own laundry hamper would be an easy solution for this ongoing problem, but, what do I know? I just live here. No, instead, when my sons are tired of wearing their socks for the day they just chunk them. My boys discarding their socks reminds me of a bride blindly tossing her bouquet behind her at the wedding reception. The only difference is no one is trying to catch these stinky things. It might be okay if this happened in their bedrooms, but it rarely does. These socks are usually found in and under couches, behind the toilet, under the refrigerator, my wife’s van, the backyard and everywhere else a sock shouldn’t be. Obviously, finding matching socks for these kids every morning was a huge chore.
A few years ago, my wife, tired of trying to find and match socks, developed a system to hopefully recover some of these foot unicorns. She stationed an extra laundry basket on top of the dryer. Every time a sock came out it went in the basket. Whenever you needed socks, you went to the basket and hoped you found two that matched; or at least two that were the same color…or just two that fit you…or just two in general. This was not my problem. I kept all my laundry together in my room and washed my own separately so that I would not share in this madness. What I should have expected, but did not, is that one day my boys’ feet would be the size as mine. As I write this, my eldest’s feet are a half size larger than mine.
When school started in August 2018, this became my problem. Both went through growth spurts over the summer and their feet did most of the growing. The night before school started both boys came and asked me for a pair of socks. “No” I said. “Where are your socks? This is why I keep track of my socks so I don’t have to…” I paused. I decided a lecture about socks the night before the first day of school was not the last words I wanted to impart before bedtime. I mean, I remember the nervousness and excitement that came each year when school started. Being the great dad and generous provider that I am, I said, “Sure. But just this time.”
Worst mistake I ever made!
That was like giving a stray hungry dog a bowl of food because you felt sorry for it. From this point forward these two became like a pack of wild, bloodthirsty wolves constantly ravaging through my closet. It was like they tasted blood for the first time and my sock bin was an easy den of helpless prey. My boys are very obedient and respectful to my wife and me. But, no matter how much I scolded them for taking my socks, no punishment outweighed the profound pleasure they received from stealing my stash. They knew I was angry. Thus, they became very sneaky, waiting until I was in the shower to raid my closet. Every morning for weeks I would yell, “Where the heck are my socks?” I would go up to their rooms and demand they cough up my socks, even making them take off the ones they were already wearing. Looking for socks was the last reason I would have for being late to work.
I thought I could win this battle with my sons until one day I noticed something on the floor near my wife’s shoes. What I failed to mention earlier is this sock issue is actually a hereditary disease. Apparently, it was passed from my wife to our children. Before our boys were born, I was already accustomed to tripping over socks and shoes in high traffic areas in our home. What I saw that evening made me realize that I had no chance for victory. Next to her shoes were a pair of my socks! I said, “Are you kidding me? My socks don’t even fit you!” She replied, “Hey, it’s just easier to wear yours than to look for a matching pair.”
I give up!
After that discovery, I went to the store and bought 84 pairs of socks. They are all the same brand, same size, black socks. I thought that it would be easier to just have a ridiculous supply of socks rather than fight this losing battle.
Problem solved!
One month later I was back at the store buying socks.
*Update…My oldest son’s feet are now three full sizes bigger than mine and my second son’s are a full size bigger. That just means that the threads in my socks are now being stretched to their limit every day and wearing out much quicker. Thankfully, my youngest son’s feet are still too small for my socks. My wife still does not care that my socks are two sizes too big for her feet and hang out the back of her shoes. Currently, I have lost count of the number of socks I have bought in the last few years. Buying a twelve pack of socks has become like picking up a gallon of milk. It is a household staple.
