AND FANCY FREE

Let's get serious for a second....is there any greater joy in life than kicking your socks off?

That's actually a trick question.  There is, in fact, one greater joy: My Aunt Joy.  She swept through here a couple weeks ago like a fairy godmother, granting the gift of sleep to an exhausted household.

I love you, AJ.  Come back soon.  Bring my cousins!

Back to my point, how dumb are socks?  

Little ovens for your feet.  Ovens that only serve one dish, hot & stinky casserole.  No thanks!  I have a tenuous truce with footie pajamas but the rest of the time I demand fresh air between my toes.

Mama & Dad can't figure out how I manage to peel them off.  They try to trick me with the whole socks over the pants thing -- yeah, I'm a real style icon those days -- or rolling the socks all the way up my shin in order to maximize the surface area. 

Only one thing I gotta say about that:  Nice try.

Me and socks just don't mix.  Like "Aunt Joy" and "bad times".  Or "parenting" and "exercise".  Never the twain shall meet.

Last week we were all walking through the neighborhood.  (Well I was dangling from my bjorn, "The Silent J".)  It took the grownups almost two blocks to realize I kicked one of my socks off.  Mom had to run out into the street to get it.  The thing got run over and everything.  It was so great.  Take that, sock!

In summation...give it up, socks.  You'll never win.