Socks

File this post under big family struggles.

I have three beautiful children who play soccer like they are on a mission. Technically I have 9 beautiful children, but I am only talking about the soccer ones (just in case they are paying attention I do not want non soccer players to consider themselves unbeautiful). Anywhoo, these three amigos have practice on Monday and Wednesday and games on Saturday. I breathe soccer 42.86% of the week.

The rest of my week consists of rockin out (from 9 to 5) and being their personal shuttle service (complete with passenger van) the rest of the time. So where am I going with this post about work and my sweet innocent cherubs?

I will tell you where. Those turds have been stealing my black business socks when they can not find their soccer socks, or said soccer socks are stanky and in need of a washin'. I went looking for socks today that did not fall around my ankles (due to the stretch they have endured from shin guards) and had to settle for navy blue socks. While they do not match my black pants, they will have to do because those three knuckleheads have made it impossible for anyone other than a rhinoceros to wear my socks.

Aren't they the sweetest things?