Socks Leatherman

I can't remember a time since Cal has been dressing himself that he hasn't had a strong preference for socks pulled up to his knees.  Black socks, now that I think about it.

The kid has an abundance of socks in the top drawer of his dresser, reflective of my many attempts to find a style that he actually likes... or tolerates.  His requirements?  I'll describe it in a series of can'ts - can't be ankle high, can't be loose such that they don't hold their position around his calf, and can't be white.  These requirements have never really been spoken; rather, they've been learned through many failed attempts -- sometimes painful -- to satisfy the kid.  You'd think I was asking him to poke his eyes out the way he reacts to my suggesting that he just try to wear the ankle-high socks.

No sock in Cal's abundant collection of socks that has actually landed on one of his feet hasn't been stretched beyond its crew-length limits.  No sock hasn't been stretched so far that its threads scream, "help us!" or so thin that one can see the skin of his calves.

And the fact that they're always black socks, again, pulled at least mid-way up his calf, has elicited many "you look like Grandpa" comments from me.  Maybe that's not so bad as my dad is pretty cool; however, black socks and Crocs make him a fashion conspiracy that no 7-year-old should be comfortable replicating.  But Cal has no problem doing so -- that he looks like Grandpa is a compliment to him.

You'd think as precious as the socks that he actually wears are to him he'd treat them better.  Common sense might say one way to take care of his socks would be to wear shoes outside... or, at least wear shoes when wearing his treasured socks.  Nope.  Even with my threats that I'm "not buying you any more socks because you have a drawer full so you'd better wear shoes if you want those to last!" he bypasses shoes.

That's an empty threat, though -- I oftentimes find myself in the kids' sock section of a store poring through the sock selection and applying what I believe to be the same assessment of them that Cal might -- are they long enough?  Are they tight enough?  Are they durable enough?  Are they black?  If the answer is "no" to any of those questions, I leave, disappointed yet okay because HE STILL HAS PLENTY OF SOCKS IN HIS DRAWER!

Socks Leatherman with his new socks

My latest sock purchase came with great success.  Despite them meeting the aforementioned criteria, I naturally had my doubts that they'd actually be met with... acceptance.  But what I got yesterday morning was better than acceptance.  I was in the shower, the first step in my getting ready for my workday, when Cal burst into the bathroom, the biggest smile plastered on his face.  I looked down and saw the reason for that gigantic smile. I saw two legs covered entirely in black, half by long shorts, and half by his new socks.  Yes, I hit the jackpot -- these new socks stretched beyond where any other of his socks had gone before, reaching and even passing his knees.  Yes, the tops of these socks hit the bottom of his thighs.

We were both very pleased with ourselves, and it made me smile all day (as I'm sure it did him, too).

I don't know if he'll grow out of this, and I don't know how well it'll go over with his classmates that he wears his socks like this.  As things are right now, I wouldn't expect it to end anytime soon; and Cal's personality is likable enough that he might actually get away with it as being quirky and not weird with the kids at school.  I think it's more likely that he'll inspire the nickname "Socks"... "Hey, there's Socks Leatherman on the court!"  "I'm going to have to run this past Socks."  Oh, yes.  I'm going to start working on that nickname now.