Thursday, March 10, 2011

One Sock, Two Sock, Red Sock...Ten Sock?!



















  
On one fine and snowy day 
My youngest did go out to play.
When he got cold he'd come inside,
And each time brand new socks were applied.
To my surprise a pile did grow.
Why in my living room I did not know.
So I asked my son why this was done?
Because I don't have time, I'm having fun.
As the day came to a close,
and my son warmed his little toes,
I told him it was time to clean his mess.
Two hours later he had done his best.
But a pile of socks still did remain.
I'm much too tired was his refrain,
To pick up said socks upon the floor
Instead I shall leave them for those I adore.
                                                                            
     Now my little tribute to Dr Seuss might not be great but hey cut me some slack I wrote the poem on the spot. 
      What happened was that we got hit with a pretty good snowstorm and like a lot of kids my son wanted to go play in the mess it left. He would go outside and play for a little bit, building evil and deranged snow men bent on world domination or at least the northern hemisphere, then come inside and change his socks, leaving the wet ones in the middle of the living room floor before going back out and making some snow angels. I'm not sure if he was screwing with me but those snow angels had big ole devil horns and a pointed tail coming out of them. He would then come back in and change his socks in the living room again, he did this five times leaving me with a pile of ten wet stinky socks and melted snow. The next morning he threw a fit because he didn't have any clean socks left and couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
      My children and I have had a life long battle over socks. I will find them in and under every piece of furniture, in the middle of the floor and whole stockpiles under the bed like they are hording them against the impending attack of the sock Nazi's. 
      Every week when we do laundry we save the whites for last to make sure as many socks as possible are done and enough time is given to gather them all knowing that it's laundry day. Either me or mom will clearly state "We are now doing whites! Bring out your socks, bring out your socks!" While ringing a bell and lugging the laundry basket through the house. That not being enough we then directly ask "Have you gotten ALL of your socks from your rooms?" 
      A dumbfounded "Uh huh" is given.
      "Did you check under the bed?"
       Again "Uh huh"
      Well, just like clockwork, three days later comes the cry "I don't have any clean socks! Where are my socks?"
      Where they are is all over their rooms, on the floor, under the bed, in toy boxes, closets and cages...Pets cages not theirs, we were forced by law to stop keeping the kids in cages, except in emergencies.
I even made up a goofy little poem thinking it would help them remember.

      Two Sock, One Sock
      The dryer ate my sock,
      Or where else did it go?
      Once there was two socks,
      Now there's one to fold.

      Obviously it didn't work but it did get me a whole lot of eye rolling and head shaking, and as you know we as parents thrive on those.
      At one point my oldest son seemed to be going through an incredible amount of socks. Every month or so he's tell us he needed new ones. We chalked this up to a lot of wear and tear from soccer every day. This is where our sock education truly began, and we realized how naive we were. Imagine our surprise at going under his bed and finding several months of unwashed but perfectly good socks. Disgusting and stinky but in one piece. He would rather send us to buy new socks than walk then to the hamper which was literally FOUR FEET from his bed. This is when we realized that children and parents might have a "Sock Gap".
      The sock gap is simply the distance between the hamper and the underneath of the bed, times the number of socks, and squared by how frustrated we as parents are after finishing all the laundry only to find out we need to do another tiny load of nothing but kids socks. See and you thought high school math was useless. 
      Once again we were faced with buying our first born all new socks when fashion suddenly dictated that the socks he was wearing were not junior high, fashion police approved. He refused to wear any socks until he was properly attired. I was unaware of any sort of sock fashions but of course I had missed sock week in Milan due to the pressing underwear crisis in Paris, so I stood corrected, and we were forced to buy new socks that looked more like little girl booties than proper man's footwear. It was either that or watch his heels continue to bleed, and after the whole children in a cage fiasco I just didn't need the hassles.
     







3 COMMENTS:

Cool blog...love the poems. Im a follower!
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cool blog...Im a follower! love the poems...
check out my blog at

http://www.mommycharlieandtheboys.com

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