Bucket of Socks


I am tired of misplaced socks.

They’re everywhere. In the basement. Shoved into random nooks & crannies of children’s bedrooms. On the front porch. Even in the grass out by the garden. They really are everywhere. I don’t understand it.

Why are socks so often considered optional attire at my house? Is it really that much trouble to put socks on in the morning and wait until bedtime to take them off? If that’s too much to ask, is it really that difficult for one to put them with one’s other dirty clothes once they are removed from one’s feet?

My kids know where socks are supposed to go.  Should I really need to pick up after them or even remind them over and over again about my expectations?

I complained about the socks five days ago.

I threatened the socks’ owners three days ago.

Today, I collected them all in a bucket and attached a fifty-cents-per-sock penalty fee. I now have a pile of money on my dresser to put toward my next date night.

No more complaining or nagging, threatening or wheedling from me. My kids know the rules.

Apparently, the problem was not so much the misplaced socks; it was this mother’s lack of follow-through.


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