Socks Suck

We are so lucky to live in sunny, southern California.  Like beyond lucky. Luckier than lucky. So lucky that my children can walk around barefoot almost all year round, so lucky that light loose dresses are a staple most of the year, and so lucky that as a baby onesies are all the attire needed.  In fact, here where we live, sweat itself is an outer fashion layer. I cannot tell you how many times our children have forgotten to even put on shoes when leaving the house. Flip flops are a summer staple and often even those are tossed aside in favor of cute bare feet and small little toes.


So, when socks and shoes are called for, it is like an inky dark black cloud that rushes and looms over this house, my heart, and literally socks us into doom.  I have bought hundreds of pairs of socks. Long ones, short ones, organic ones, light ones, soft ones, hard ones, anklet ones, fancier than fancy ones, colorful ones, boring ones, seamless ones, and my bank account hates me for it.  We have boxes filled with socks. They sit there and collect dust and taunt me endlessly with their adorable designs and their ugly seams. They represent hardship and tears, and struggles only some of us know. So, we just gave up. Socks do not work for Piper.  They bring about tears, and uncomfortableness, and more crying (adults and children), and then anger, and then yelling, and an endless cycle of effort ending in failure. It is a battle that cannot be won. So we created a mantra, a mantra that we say every day:


Socks just suck.


There is no winning against socks.  We tried. We conformed to the sock and sneaker school policy.  We engaged in the everlasting, energy draining morning school saga of putting on socks and shoes.  It ended in tears and emotional trauma for everyone. Every. Single. Time. Socks are too powerful, too purposeful, too

suffocating, too socky.  There is no such thing as a lite or loose sock.  Then it will not fit into the shoe. It will be bulky and droopy and make the situation worse.  I applaud the companies that are striving so hard to make seamless socks and I have bought them all.  They have worked for many children with spd and other issues. But, there is a teeny, tiny seam. And to children who feel things others cannot even comprehend, and are sensitive to even the most minute stitch, they don’t work.


In giving up against the reign of socks, we had to come up with solutions.  First there were Crocs. We felt elated. The schools agreed and they worked!  They come in all sorts of colors, popular characters, and even glitter! They could be cleaned easily, worn year round, and we finally had tear free mornings.  Rain boots were worn without socks (yes even in the rain), same with cowgirl boots, and sneakers became a thing of the past. But then we discovered Natives. Ah, Natives.  I love them. They look like sneakers without the laces, they don’t require socks, they have much better foot coverage, and are easily washable and comfy. Now Piper wouldn’t have to stand out in her Crocs, no one would even bat an eyelash.  We have them in sparkly turquoise, marble orange, glittery purple, and I now have them. Our son has them. One more problem solved. Thank you Crocs and Natives. You have helped the world of sensory processing disorder and many other children with disabilities without ever meaning to, and maybe still not even knowing.  We are forever grateful and forever indebted to you. Please never go out of business. Thank you for eliminating the need for socks and allowing my family to get to a place where socks collect dust, or are used for art projects or puppet shows. We can now laugh at our sock puppet faces.


I have been told that next I need to invent a sock.  I don’t think it can be done. Socks just suck.


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