Today Daphne suddenly decided, after five years of wearing them, that socks were absolutely, positively, and in every other way, intolerable. She simply could not handle wearing them. As I was getting her ready for school, she burst into tears and tore them from her feet screaming, "I hate socks! I really hate them!"
This isn't the first time she has exhibited sock issues. She has inherited a little bit of her sock OCD from me--I do have some rather strong preferences concerning my socks, starting with what they are made of (predominantly cotton with 5-10% Lycra to keep them snug. No wool, no polyester, and definitely NO animal fibers like cashmere or angora. Yes, the actually make socks out of angora!), how high they go on my leg (I don't like ankle socks unless I'm wearing athletic clothes or golf shorts or something. And knee-highs make me batty. Also socks that are meant to me mid-calf but slide down around my ankle go straight into the garbage.), and also if they are on correctly (doesn't everyone feel like pulling their eyeballs out if the seam of their socks across the toes is askew???). But Daphne takes it to a whole new level. I feel like getting her socks and shoes on exactly how she likes them is about the same as dressing a medieval knight for battle. With only two socks, and two shoes, you'd think it would take 30 seconds. But there is so much adjusting and fidgeting and whining and changing that it feels like I have personally carried and tied on a full 100 lb suit of armor by the time I am done.
And then, still, on some days like today everything is still not right. She couldn't possibly wear THOSE socks in THAT position with THOSE shoes AND wear her glasses AND deal with the tag on her pants touching her skin and STILL go to school. So in the end, the socks come off, the shoes get changed into her favorite boots (sans socks...EW!!), her shirt gets tucked in to provide a buffer between the pants' tag and Her Majesty's skin, and only the glasses remain as they started before this battle began. She looks like a cross between a major geek and a street urchin. AND ALL THIS FOR 2 1/2 HOURS OF SCHOOL!
At least the girl in the fairy tail turned out to be a real princess after all that pea-under-the-mattresses drama. But Daphne? She seems to be more from the story of Beauty and The Beast. And I don't mean Beauty. Where is my fairy godmother when I need her? I don't ask much. Just a little spell to bring on summer. Or an early spring. Some situation in which socks are no longer required...
Bibbity-bobbity-flip flops!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
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7 comments:
My daughter hated "bunchy" clothes. That meant anything that was the least bit lumpy, puffy, or wrinkly (quilted, etc.)Still is like your daughter with socks. (She's 30 now.) Her boys hate tags of any kind touching their skin. Daughter likes to hunt and kill animals but doesn't like wet things touching her like dishcloths, dishwater--mostly anything to do with dish wetness. I find her irritating, but my husband is a little like her (or she like him) so even though she's left home, I'm stuck with him. Sheesh! Glad I'm not OCD at ALL...wink, sputter, snort!
Uh, oh. Sounds like she could have some sensory issues. If it persists, I recommend "The Out of Sync Child". (Then again, when you have a kid with SID, you assume that every kid who doesn't like socks or tags has SID. It's like when you buy a car and pretty soon you see that make and model everywhere.)
I hate shoes, myself. The worst thing about my new job is that they're shoe nazis there. Sandalls, flip flops, sling backs, and mules are prohibited 12 months out of the year. They refer to your work shift a a "tour" but what I want to know is: If I just completed a "tour", why do I not have a drink with an umbrella and why am I not wearing sandals?
At previous jobs, I would kick my shoes off under my desk and leave them there when I went to the copier or the water cooler or to use the bathroom. Nobody ever said anything to me about walking around the office barefoot so I continued to do it. At my new job, there is a 10 page manual explaining the types of shoes that are acceptable for work. (All leather, no holes, no venting, no canvas, must cover entire foot, etc.) And no, I'm not lifting heavy boxes or pushing trolleys. It is a desk job for the postal service keying info from images of letters on a screen. If you show up wearing the wrong shoes you will be sent home and absenteeism in the first 90 days gets you fired. Every night, my feet yearn to breathe. They yearn for freedom.
My son is too skinny for words so every pair of pants has to have an additional elastic band sewn on the inside and the elastic band has to be covered in microfleece.
Fun times.
tell Daphne that I totally feel her pain. sock manufacturers need to get a clue and make better products.
Long live sandals!
Down with socks!
I feel better.
When I was a kid, it was all about the fabric or tags. I hated "itchy" fabrics and I was very sensitive about it. I think my mom hated me for being so picky, but I was not going to wear some scratchy shirt dammit!
Sounds like some medication may be in this child's future. ;)
LO! Sounds familiar! Aspen and Sacoya both had clothing and sock issues. But they did grow out of it, kinda. The make seamless socks if you can find them. Aspen wouldn't wear anything else for a long time. Good luck with that!
Poor Daphne!
Lulu has sock issues, too. I think we're fortunate, though, because when she says, "NOOOO! It's not right!!" I say, "Then fix it..." and she does and (usually) that ends it. Whew!
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