…anyone know what that frozen thing is on the front lawn?

I have to say that I cringe when the weather gets chilly enough to merit wearing socks…I have 3-4 pair that I only look for a few months out of the entire year. Usually I know where they are and can locate them on days I need them.   My children on the other hand, have more pairs than I can count and they can never seem to find them.  This goes beyond the sock monster…the dryer ate them…they are balled up under the couch.  Apparently my children have inherited my distaste for socks.  I personally do not like them because if my feet are hot then I am unhappy.  I have a sensory dislike for socks. I take them off the first chance I get!   I think my body thermostat is in my feet.  (and there goes my ADHD brain playing the soundtrack of all of the funny quips I have heard in my life about my feet that are not unusually large by the way but an 8.5 U.S. or 36 UK).  When I was younger I recall my maternal Grandfather suggesting I just wear the shoeboxes!  He was also the one who asked me if I paid full price for the bathing suit I had purchased as a teenager because “clearly they left off half of the material”! Shout out to you Papa from whom I know contributed greatly to the person I am today!
Now there’s the Kimberly we all know…Ritalin not quite kicked in and full throttle on the shiny thing quotient!

And in the words of Paul Harvey, who I remember vividly listening to as I grew up…and NOW…the rest of the story…

Socks!  Back to socks!  My husband is the only one who can find his socks in our house.  Reason being?  He wears them 365 days a year…that’s just who he is.  My three children and I on the other hand…not so much.  Only in the coldest of months and certainly not longer in the day than we have to.  So as the cold weather approaches and socks aren’t entirely an option, the race begins.  I actually get sock anxiety at night wondering if I will find  the six appropriate socks in the morning to usher the three off to school. We should have a routine for this…but we don’t.  You see, the girl likes hers to match…not necessarily in color but in height.  She usually waits until we are almost out the door to look.  My first born son on the other hand will do anything he can to go without and doesn’t much care what they look like.  My second born, beloved five year old on the other hand is quite particular about the height and fit of his socks.  “they feel udgy, squishy!” he says while making a face and shaking his legs…he doesn’t care if they match, they just have to fit.  That is until the other day when he wore a pair of Daddy’s socks to school.  I confess that I pointed out to the teacher that greeted us at school that he had chosen them all by himself…the heel of the socks midway to his knees and the top of them well over the knee.  The teacher giggled.  Daddy was honored.  I was proud of my son for tolerating such a wonky pair of socks!
Can you relate to the sock drama?
Needless to say, I am thrilled to have a long weekend and at least three days to forgo the sock anxiety…
Here is the lovely picture that inspired this post that I dedicate to my first born and most amazing son, Thando! Hey look!  It is one of his socks…frozen solid on the front lawn!
I would also like to add a tribute to Paul Harvey…his ability to speak in pictures…my ADHD brains dream.  I could listen to a broadcast of his without distraction, always anticipating a quip near the end of his broadcast, his familiar chuckle and lastly…

‘Good Day’! (click to see video)

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