A shoe-in for a sock addiction program
Innocent introduction to literature suitable even for young babes? Yeah, I fell for that, too, joyfully jiggling the guy's legs as I read, "Left foot, left foot, left foot, right!"
Big Guy's emerged unscathed. Boots' genetic material, though, apparently carriers a marker for sock addiction. I fear early exposure to "The Foot Book" has hastened his downward spiral.
Thomas socks at Target? Gotta have 'em. Lightning McQueen footwear at the dollar store? Will weep piteously when denied. Christmas socks hidden in the corner of Big Guy's drawer? Boots is claiming ownership, rationalizing that the Christmas presents are actually birthday gifts and therefor valid year-round.
Once again, two boys, near identical upbringing, different results.
Projecting my own chronically frozen feet onto them when they were mere babies, I made sure they always wore socks. It might have be en104 degrees outside but, by golly, their feet feet were going to be protected from any passing breeze.
It was a challenge, though, to keep a baby boy warm and stylish. I remember being distraught in a department story one day as I searched for something other than boring old white for baby Big Guy. I looked enviously at the colorful, ribboned girls socks and wanted to protest outside for sock equity. Post-partum hormones do crazy things to me.
These days, Big Guy is perfect happy with boring old white, and so am I since it makes laundry day a lot easier. He's so laissez faire about footwear that he'll happily wear the same socks until they're able to walk to the laundry basket on their own accord.
Not so Boots. While Big Guy revels in his own sock stinkiness, Boots has to have consistently sweet-smelling pairs. And they have to be colorful, preferably with a cartoon character as well.
It's a challenge to keep a 3-year-old in matched pairs. Regardless of how many times I've said, "put your shoes and socks by the door when you take them off," shoes will land in the kitchen while the socks flee for the next county.
Luckily, Boots has devised a workaround, one he actually seems to prefer: The unmatched pair. Or even one sock at a time, the Michael Jackson glove equivalent for the feet. He sleeps in them - or sometimes "it", too.
His addiction is going to be harder to feed for a few years because once you get past toddler togs, cute socks for boys just about disappear.
If the foot fetish lasts until adult sizes, though, all I have to do is call a former co-worker for the address of the sock shop where he purchased pairs with wine bottles, Santas, dollar signs and more.
It seems that some big boys need their feet to be warm and stylish, too.
Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.