I don’t know what it is with my kid’s right foot and socks. No matter when, where, or what kind of sock I put on his right foot, within minutes (if not seconds) it’s off. Sometimes before I can even get the other sock on the other foot.
This is of course a worrisome trend now that it’s winter.
My mom bought baby some fun booties from Old Navy that I thought for sure would solve the problem. They’re not only cute, but warmer, longer, and heavier than a regular sock, so I figured they’d be harder to kick off. Just perfect for those chilly December days in D.C. when a snowsuit seems like overkill.
So, the other morning I was feeling particularly motivated, so I packed up baby in his stroller and headed off to the gym. Baby was looking super cute in his fuzzy winter coat, polar bear hat, fleece pants, and booties. For added comfort, I had tucked a blanket in tight around baby’s thunder thighs. Paranoid that he’d be cold or that we’d have a bootie casualty, I stopped at nearly every corner and re-tucked the blanket. A block and a half from the gym, I stuck my hand under the blanket to be sure I felt two booties.
Well, I must have been imagining things because as I undressed baby at the gym, the pudgy piggies on his right foot were bare as could be.
I hate to admit that something as simple as a missing sock could ruffle my feathers, but I was seriously annoyed. Hadn’t I made a super human effort to make sure the sock specifically did not go missing? And what were the chances of me finding it again? And darn, they were really, really cute.
So, after my workout, I headed down the elevator to the Target to buy baby some more socks. I had already been there to stock up on socks earlier in the week, so I definitely was irritated to be spending more money on stuff I already bought. But the thought of baby’s little digits feeling a little nip on the stroller ride home made me decide to splurge on a few more pairs. Of course, within the course of my running in and out of the store, three people stopped me to tell me my baby was missing a bootie, leaving me feeling like an inadequate mother despite the fact that I was standing there with three pairs of socks in my hand.
But the problem was solved and we were rolling back home. On a whim I decided to retrace my steps. And in true fairy tale fashion, I saw this:
I can’t tell you how irrationally psyched I was to have found the long lost bootie. I mean, it’s a sock, after all. But somehow I felt victorious, as if I had outsmarted the universe. It was out to get me–and steal my baby’s bootie, no less–but I had not only persevered but triumphed.
At least for the day.