ONE of the most annoying things about my children going from house to house is the amount of stuff that goes missing, but I guess it's something I am just going to have to live with.
Their things belong to them. It wouldn't be fair of me to demand they keep certain possessions at home when they are desperate to bring them to the other place they call "home".
My sister, who is now all grown up, had to deal with this often as a child. She tells me that there was nothing more confusing than when our parents denied her from bringing her belongings from house to house. With this in mind I try my very hardest not to push that upon my children.
But it happens, things get forgotten and sometimes they go missing. This week I found myself accused of such larceny.
. . . I had stolen my children's socks. Yes, lock me up and throw away the key! I had unintentionally pilfered their socks! We have a pink bag that goes from house to house with various clothing, favourite toys and important school notes etc, and this week the kid's socks were not returned! Now I know I have very tiny feet, but there is no way in God's green earth I am ever going to fit into my children's socks. Or perhaps I've kept them on purpose, in a pitiable attempt to create conflict with the "other party"?
As you may have read in the past, I am terrible when it comes to folding my washing and this week the infamous leaning tower of laundry was at its highest. My guess was, the socks were hidden amongst the pile and I simply forgot them.
I tried my hardest to explain that the issue of missing socks is by no means a new phenomenon, in fact it's been going on for years. I am not the one responsible and it doesn't just happen in my household. In homes across the world, two perfectly happy, matching socks go into the wash ... and only one comes out. I personally have half a washing basket full of odd socks, hiding somewhere under my family's mass of clean clothes.
I purchased over a dozen pairs of socks for each for my children at the beginning of the school year and almost all of them have gone astray. I don't know where they go.
Perhaps our washing machines are a type of Bermuda triangle for missing socks and they end up in a parallel universe for all missing household items. A place where one will not only find missing socks, but a bounty of teaspoons, Tupperware lids and pens that have vanished from our homes.
Maybe someone with a foot fetish sneaks into our backyards and snatches them from our washing lines. Taking them back to their home where they are later sewn into a giant sock blanket, to be rolled around upon when there's a full moon.
Could a one-legged monster have taken them? Possibly . . . but then I imagine monsters are quite sizeable, so they too would have trouble fitting into socks that belong to small children.
Some say they are sacrificed to the dryer gods and once they have been devoured, end up expectorated into our lint filters. Others believe that it's purely scientific. Quite simply there is a chemical reaction that occurs with the washing powder, causing the female sock to turn cannibalistic and eat the male.
Of course none of these plausible solutions would have stood up as solid evidence, so I did something I have been putting off for weeks. I was forced to sit down and at long last fold the mountain of laundry. I even put it all away at the end!
I am pleased to report that the missing socks were ultimately reunited and returned to the infamous pink bag. I've also discovered a whole new wardrobe of clothing I thought I would never see again. So perhaps the notion of folding the laundry after I've washed it isn't so bad after all.
I guess if the most outrageous things we manage to misplace with our children going from house to house is a couple of pairs of socks, it can't be all that bad can it?