My Dearest Sock Pal,
One day, I hope that you will read these letters and enjoy seeing where your sock has been. Let's start by saying, I've got a question for the lovely readers of the Sockapalooza. I'll get to that first, they may not want to read about the sock's adventure and I really need some help. I'm so used to making toe-up socks for myself. I usually take measurements from my heel bone to the big toe; this is the length that I knit until I start my heel. Is it safe for me to knit 2 inches shorter than my Pal's length and then start my heel? Please, help a fellow Paloozaer out. Ok, on to your sock's weekend fling.
Unfortunately, Gus was born to people who hate sand more than sand's mortal enemy (Would that be water or wind?). Gus loves sand as most 2 year-olds do. Here's the problem, we have a lovely park, but it has the world's largest sand pit. So we sucked up our hatred, and took the little bugger to the park this weekend. Gus is a cautious kid. The toddler-sized slide at daycare looks like Mt. Everest to Gus. When we got to the park, it took a little nudging to get him to sit on the "truck". It took SK to climb the 2 steps for the little slide for Gus to look at it. Did you know that every slide has a bar that prevents kids from falling forward and off the slide? Huh? Well, imagine the shock when Gus grabs that bar, hangs off it & says, "Monkey boy <insert monkey sound>". Then, please imagine me passing out when Gus walks up and slides down the 20 foot twisty slide. From that point, he ran around the park testing out all the rides. I decided to whip out the sock because SK didn't want to be more than 6 inches from Gus. I only got one strange look, but it was from a father that had a baby strapped to his chest while also carrying coffee. Now if we were Uber-Baby-Safe parents that baby proofed the entire house & the dog, I would have shot back an equally snarky look. But I've walked around the house nursing a baby while carrying a coffee, so I can't throw stones. It's safe to say at the park I added an inch and kept the sand away from the Sock & my own toes.
Here's how the Sock & I spent the day yesterday.
Can you sanitize a sock? It may have to happen. Tomorrow the Sock visits Sandusy! Home of the Demon Drop and the smell of burnt tires. I'm also going to take the Sock to northern Ohio's cleanest & most fabulous gas station ever. Tune in people.