Missing Socks

socks, pile of socks, colorful socks, laundry

Last night:

In a pile in the living room are two socks, a vest, and thermals (all Yitzchak’s), as well as a shirt (Shlomo’s).  (There were toys underneath this pile, but they have since been discovered and put away.)  In the middle of the living room floor are another two socks: one Yitzchak’s, one Shlomo’s.  There are also two dirty shirts of Shlomo’s, and two pairs of his pants (all from today – we double-layer).

Me (to Yitzchak): “We’re missing two socks, one of yours and one of Shlomo’s.  I think missing socks are genetic.  Arrrggg.”  (Obviously, since Yitzchak is definitely the one passed on the gene, I am free of this fault.)

Yitzchak pulls a sock off his foot, and throws it on the floor behind me.  “Here’s the missing sock.  Maybe you should check next time that it’s not on my foot.”

Me: “Where?  I don’t see it.”

Yitzchak points to where it landed, crumpled into a ball.  “Over there, see?”

Me: “Thanks.  Now we’re just missing one of Shlomo’s.”

Yitzchak: “Say it: ‘I was wrong’.”

Me: “Fine, I was wrong; your sock is not missing.  It could still be genetic, though.”

We look around the room.  We are also missing two cardboard Thomas the Tank books from the set.  I decide not to bother looking for them until morning.  I am about to give up on the sock, as well (or at least look in the bedroom, instead), when Yitzchak has an idea.

Yitzchak: “You know, Shlomo’s sock might actually still be on his foot.”

Me: “Really?”

YItzchak: “Could be.”

Me: “Can you go check?”

(Shlomo is sleeping, but he usually kicks off his covers.  Yitzchak goes in to check.)

Yitzchak: “Yeah, it’s on his foot.  My right sock was on my right foot, and his right sock was on his right foot!”  He laughs.

Me: (laughing) “See, I told you it was genetic!”

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Missing Socks

  1. That’s a good strategy. I’ve designated a bowl for all unmatched socks, and every other week or so, I’ll go match up the socks in the bowl. But there are still some stragglers. With three little feet in the house, it can be daunting. I know a mother who uses this as punishment – matching up the unmatched socks. Pretty clever.

    Like

    • I know what you mean – my favorite socks were always missing, while I was growing up. At least, one of them was. 😉 I have a strategy where the socks go into the hamper in pairs, into the laundry, in pairs, and are then folded. Unpaired socks don’t get washed. It’s a good motivator for my husband to help me find the missing ones. Also, I try to buy socks that are identical – that way, there can be two socks missing, but it’s just one pair. Hopefully I’ll be able to stick with this for years to come . . . Matching socks as punishment – that’s an interesting strategy. I happen to like folding socks, though.

      Like

Due to the high volume of spam, I am forced to enable comment moderation. Sorry about that!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s