Socks make me think of numerous different things about my boys.
When Alpha male arrives home from work he disrobes his feet the moment he sits down. Sometimes they will be balled up and chucked around the room. Even worse still is when one of the kids falls victim to having said socks shoved in their face as they roll around on the ground trying desperately to flee the stinky socks.
Sweaty socks are discarded at the end of the school day for Beta boy. Kappa boy likes transporting half the sandpit inside in his socks (how does the sand get inside the socks?) and taking them off himself to leave a little sand dune in the middle of the carpet.
Socks inside out when it’s time to wash drive me bonkers. Don’t even get me started on toe jam especially with new socks.
On a lighter note, there are all sorts of ‘sock’ sayings too. ‘Bless your cotton socks!’ ‘Sock it to me.’ ‘Stick a sock in it.’ ‘Pull your socks up.’ ‘Knock your socks off.’
My favourite though is the fact that close and wonderful friends of ours, colloquially and affectionately, refer to our family as the ‘Socks’. The first letter of each of our first names spells sock. Hubby’s is the first letter, I’m the last and the kids are in between. We call their posse the ‘beep’ family and, coincidentally, they’re in the same order as us.
Now that I’ve bored your socks off (I know, I know, it’s supposed to be pants). I’ll leave you in peace to enjoy the rest of your weekend.
Any shocking sock stories to share? Just wanting to vent about odd/lost/missing socks? I’d love to have a yarn with you.
I’ll be here, darning the holes in the boys socks. Gotta love ’em.
Image from: here.