I can track where Scott has been for the last week by his socks. He just takes them off wherever he is and there they lay — a trail of comings and goings. I finally gave up on convincing him THIS IS RIDICULOUS for my sanity and moved on to fighting about who gets the last of the hummus.
I was proud of myself for letting it go. I held it up to how awesome I am at this marriage business. I just gather up his socks and put them in the hamper, and I have not say a word for many, many year.
Then my son picked up a sock this weekend …
A few minutes later, E says: MAMA! MAMA, look what I did.
My eyes grow larger and larger as I think: Yes my son… look what you did. YOU PUT A KNOT IN THE MIDDLE OF SCOTT’S SOCK.
I realize the sock war is not over… I was merely biding my time. I am a sleeper cell ready to rise up against my husband and his on-the-floor socks, and now I have my secret weapon. My son and his new-found ability to tie knots. In socks. Socks he finds on the floor.
I swiftly and in front of my unsuspecting spouse, put my plan into motion: E, that is so great! You should practice whenever you find a sock around the house.
Scott looks at me, and I smile. It may have taken over 10 years, but victory is mine. ALL MINE.
WINNING IS SO MUCH MORE AWESOME THAN PICKING MY BATTLES.
New marriages don’t try this at home. Yet.