In an effort to start the day off on a positive note, we took a walk.
Somewhere along the way, we stopped to see this:
I was so excited to show it to the baby, because the last page of one of her favorite books (The Very Hungry Caterpillar) is, of course, "And he was a beautiful butterfly!" So seeing such a beautiful specimen up close and personal felt very special.
We continued walking, and while looking in a shop window, I realized something...
No socks! She had them on when we left the house.
And so the GREAT SOCK HUNT of 2010 began.
We began to retrace our steps. We asked a kind woman with a dog if she had seen any baby socks, (Thinking of course that a good bloodhound would not let something as smell-er-ific as baby socks pass him by.) and she said "No." So I said, "Oh, we are hunting for them." She gave me an odd look and said "Sounds fun, good luck." (Apparently, the dog was not a bloodhound, but some kind of beagle.)
We had a few false starts, leaves that looked like socks from far away...
Other baby paraphernalia that clearly did not belong to us.
It was a long walk back the way we came, but we continued on, and a few blocks up, we had our first break in the case:
We walked and walked and walked. Scanning the sidewalks, the grass on either side, trying to remember the exact walkways we used.
We were losing steam and losing hope. What does one do when there is only one of a pair? A question of great magnitude on a day such as this.
Finally, just two doors down from home, we happened upon this little guy:
Don't smirk like that at me, young man, do you know what you put us through?
The great sock hunt was finally over, we were home, completely outfitted again.
But the whole thing was clearly exhausting for poor baby.
I understand, it takes a lot of energy when you are missing things.
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