After that, all I wanted as a baby gift was socks. I actually, in a late-pregnancy frenzy, was known to fret over whether I had enough socks.
Yes, I know this is ridiculous.
Thing have gone pretty well, until now. O.'s sock supply has been mysteriously dwindling. I have been so careful with them, and he had a fully supply when we started. Today, even though the laundry is done, we reached the bottom. His sock basket was mostly empty, save the odd collection waiting to be matched with their mates.
As we were hustling to get out the door for swimming, I begged my seven-year-old for help. It had dawned on me that perhaps O. was throwing them overboard. So, I sent E. to their room to search under the crib for socks, even a half-pair that perhaps had a mate in the basket.
He returned with one sock.
But that was good enough! We matched it with something from the basket, and had socks and shoes ready to go for our outing.
But I still found myself pondering where in the world all his socks were running away to.
And then it dawned on me.
I sent E. on Mission Number Two: go to my room and search under the crib in which O. takes his naps.
The squeal from my room soon told me I'd been right. E. pulled the crib away from the wall and found:
Let's zoom in. Just for fun.
We also found two missing toys, a blanket that went AWOL months ago, and a stuffed Dalmatian.