I was clearing the lunch dishes the other day (so it was about 4PM), and the sliding glass door off the main floor deck opened. Thing One, a left-handed four-year-old boy with a rather eccentric take on life, poked his pointy head in.

“Mommy. Follow me and I will show you how to wash my socks.”

He was holding in one hand: A filthy, dripping wet sock.

I was instantly intrigued. I have tried many things. His socks are never clean, unless they have not been worn. This is because he likes to take his shoes off, but not his socks. He doesn’t want to get his feet dirty, after all. They would get VERY dirty without socks. This summer, we have decided that socks are just going to be semi-disposable.

This pair is trying to escape

I followed Thing One and his dripping sock down the stairs to the patio. There he had this:

Nothing works better for scrubbing socks than a bucket full of mud!

And this:

Daddy’s wine decanter brush, because we want to give the filthy sock the best gentle care

He then proceeded to dip the filthy sock in the water and scrub at it with the decanter brush. All very reasonable, and completely devoid of soap, but points for trying, right? Next, he handed ME the filthy, muddy sock.

“Use teamwork to wash my socks.”

Despite the fact that this made me want to die laughing, being the Mommy required that I hold the ruined footwear still while he scrubbed at it with the decanter brush, “Like this.” I told him that teamwork is a really good way to get something done, proving that I am taking all of this very seriously. (I want Mommy points for that.)

At this point, the sock looked something like this:

The proof is in the results!

Thing One looked at the sock with no small amount of consternation, handed me the decanter brush, and ran off to do something else. I believe he has a bright future in management consulting.

See you later, sock golems