Hey, wanna' know a secret?

You do? Promise not to tell anyone? OK, here it is....I hate baby socks. Really. HATE them.

I know, I know, they're tiny & cute & keep itty bitty toes from succumbing to the charms of frost bite. But then you have to wash them...and sort them...and find them! I was OK when we only had one child and she only had one size of socks. I would lovingly put her tiny pink socks safely in a mesh lingerie bag before washing them so none were ever lost. I would neatly roll them together & display them in a little Longaberger berry basket on the perfectly organized changing table in her beautifully decorated nursery. That lasted about 15 minutes.

Now, four children & countless sock sizes later, I have a an old crinkled gift bag crammed full of odd socks buried in the overflowing cradle that serves as a catch-all. I cannot keep them sorted. I cannot keep track of which ones fit now & which ones should be stashed away for later.

While no one is looking, I plan on digging them out, sneaking into the back yard after dark, and setting them all on fire! As I dance around the flames, I will be secretly shopping for brand new, adorable, squeal inducing baby socks in my head.

Disclaimer: I totally stole the images off the interweb and for the life of me, I cannot remember where I got them. If I had a lovely pile of baby socks like the ones pictured, I'd treasure them and hand wash them and love them until I had grand babies to pass them on to. I have two pairs like that lovingly knitted by Needlefingers & they are kept safe & sound far away from the icky sock bag.