The baby socks are always the last to go. My daughter only wears half a shoe size less than I do and is over a decade old, yet we still have her baby socks, or, rather, sock. In honor of my birthday weekend, we had sock-sorting party, which involves giving the kids some Coca-Cola and dumping a basket load of unmatched socks in the middle of the living room floor—Whoo hoo! Party time!
Okay, they didn’t fall for it, either. But since it was my birthday weekend, they pitched in to help with little complaint. We had a pile for each of our family members, which were soon overshadowed by another rapidly growing pile.
“Whose stack is that?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s nobody’s,” my daughter said.
“Nobody wears socks?” I asked.
Apparently, nobody just wears one sock because we certainly couldn’t find any matches.
My son’s foot has probably grown the most, and, like most boys, his socks have seen the most wear.
“Son, do you know how to roll up socks?” my husband asked him, very seriously.
“No, sir,” he answered solemly.
Then my husband proceeded to give him a lesson on how to. Have you ever tried to teach someone to do this? It’s harder than you think but funny to watch. I told my son his wife would thank us someday but that didn’t seem to be a great motivator.
We got rid of all the socks with holes, the socks that were too little, socks that were too babyish, the socks that just wouldn’t come clean, the socks with toes (my daughter doesn’t like those anymore), ugly socks, and some perfectly fine, but unwanted socks that nobody would claim.
My husband matched up some of his Izod socks. He paid $6 a piece for them and has owned them for 20 years. I think he’s gotten his money’s worth. As for the kids, I’ve warned them that they all better be wearing clean socks tomorrow, or else we'll start having a weekly sock-sorting party. And not even our one-footed friend nobody wants that!
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