Sock club

Those are all singleton socks, socks that don't have a buddy, socks that only an amputee would wear. I think Lyla must have an identical set stashed under her crib mattress or something, all part of her master plan to stall the morning routine.

Look at her:


You have no idea what she's capable of.

Example:


She climbed to the top of that today. I contorted myself under it and kept hands on her the whole way, but I didn't help her. At the top when I finally intervened (she was horizontal and a wee bit precarious) by threading her between the bars and lowering her to the ground, she cried. Then she did it all again.

And she's becoming a respectable dog walker.


And an excellent bee.


(Thanks Great-Auntie Jean!)

So anyway, I'm convinced Lyla is behind a high-level conspiracy to rid the household of half her socks. Maybe she started a club at daycare. "The first rule of sock club is, you do not talk about sock club. The second rule of sock club is, you DO NOT talk about sock club." And then they pummel each other with socks.

Hey, the truth might be stranger.