A matter of socks

beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.

-Excerpt from Pablo Neruda's Ode to my Socks

 

A few weeks ago, we bought 6 pairs of socks for our 3 year old. Some stripes, some solids, in different shades of pink. When I was putting her to bed that night, she asked me why we bought her socks. “Why? Because you needed them”, I replied. Last night, I was a little surprised when she asked me again, and I gave her the same answer and kissed her good night. I left her room feeling like my answer did not fully satisfy her. I could just imagine the little cogs of wheel turning in her head as she lay in her pink bed.

I mulled this thought over, and I got an “Aaah” moment: She was confused because she didn’t ask for it, and it’s not her birthday, or Hannukah, and it’s not pasalubong. Tamar infrequently asks for things, and when she does, we promise to give it to her on an occasion (birthday, etc). And we do good on that promise if she still wants it at that time. We don’t normally give the girls unnecessary things because, between the presents from friends and family members, and hand-me-downs, they have SO MUCH and need very little else. And we try to live with only what we need, recycle, and donate or pass along to friends what we don’t need (for the most part). Such should be the way of the world – with less waste. The following morning, I decided to make those pairs of pink socks a teaching tool for my child.

When I was growing up, I used to mend my dad’s “hole-y”socks. Of course, he could have bought new ones, but I don’t ever recall him doing so. Socks and hankerchiefs were traditional presents from me and my sister. I guess not knowing what to give him, since he buys his own golf clubs and accessories anyway, we just went for the safest things we knew he needed – mostly socks. Black socks, white socks, and brown ones too. The thing is, when they get holes, I made sure to mend them. Dad felt so loved, and I, so accomplished.

These days, when we get holes in our socks, we toss it out and run to Target. The needle and thread are getting dusty at the back of our closet.

I guess I better get reacquainted with my old friends.

All things pink and wonderful