missing sock

It’s A Match

I woke up this morning to the sound of Vista sobbing hysterically.

A glance at the clock told me it was a smidge after 6am.  In other words, too damn early to be awake.  Ugh.

“Vista, sweetie, what’s wrong?”  I called out dragging myself out of bed.

She came crashing into my room at the sound of my voice.

“I can’t find it!!!” *sob, hiccup, sob*

*sigh*  “Sweetie, what can’t you find?”

“I can’t find the matching sock.  I can’t find ANY socks that match!!!”  *cue fresh sobs*

“Are you kidding me?  Really?  You’re crying at six o’clock in the morning because you can’t find a matching sock?”

By this point I was resisting the urge to slam my head repeatedly on my night table.

*sniffle, hiccup, sniffle* “Yeah… cause they DON’T MATCH!”

socks 300x219 Its A Match

“Vista, I love you, but your OCDness drives me nuts sometimes.”

I get myself out of bed and head over to her sock drawer.  The offending missing sock that matched the other one she had pulled out, was of course sitting right there on top.

I picked it up and handed it to her. Immediately she was all smiles.

It makes me think back to the days when my dad used to call me ‘Jekyll and Hyde’.  I’m pretty sure Vista is karmic punishment for my mood swings as a teen.

On the bright side, she was actually able to put on her socks by herself.

This is a new skill she’s acquired recently, so we’ll celebrate that instead.  Is it too early for champagne?

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