matching socks

There are days in our household when nothing goes right, quite a lot of them, in fact. Days when I am reduced to drying tights with a hairdryer or digging out nearly fresh socks from the dirty linen bin. Those days when, after I have walked the girls to school and am kissing them goodbye, I notice that they are in a dirty dress, they still have tooth paste over their mouth, breakfast round their face, shoes on the wrong feet or odd socks on.

Odd socks are actually the norm in our house. I think you can get away with it in the winter when you’re wearing boots, I tend to be able to find matching school socks, but the weekend is a nightmare. We usually try to make a feature of it, like it’s done on purpose because we are a wacky and carefree family who delight in the freedom of mismatching footwear. The jubilant days when we all (including the man of the house) have matching socks are rare indeed but give me such a sense of achievement, when that happens we would wear sandals in the snow to show just how organised I am!