Not holding his hands tightly to his chest any longer, Zack still lost a sock occasionally at age two.

Zack constantly rubbed his feet together as a baby, so his socks frequently fell off. Maybe that’s why he makes sure I’m always wearing some!

Or maybe it’s because we have a long history of communicating through our feet. As a baby he kept his hands in fists held tightly to his chest, like an infant giving a startle response. Those fists kept him safe while his feet reached out to the world.

And the world responded, in the form of his mom (that’s me) reaching back with her (my) feet. When he was a toddler we started playing the “toes” game, which was simply touching our toes together, saying “toes,” and laughing. I’m not sure why, but this game is still hilarious to Zack. It never fails to make him happy.

Given this history, and the fact that I remind Zack every morning to put on his shoes and socks (Why do we say it in that order? It really wouldn’t work very well.), Zack now puts socks on my feet whenever I’m barefoot.

This is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I appreciate my precious boy’s heart to take care of me. He is so kind. On the other hand, I love to be barefoot. Always have. Even when it’s cold outside, I like to be barefoot inside.

But lately, this has not been an option. So I guess I’ll learn to wear socks.

Unless anyone out there has a solution for me. If you do, speak up. Please.

I often sit on the living room sofa to read or write or watch a show. Zack is in and out of the room, and he notices everything. And remember how I said he loves to serve his dad and me, and is always looking for ways to do that (see my last blog on coffee rituals with Zack)?

Well, socks are his latest way.

I know the socks are coming when I hear the door of my closet being opened. Soon after, Zack walks proudly into the room and heads toward me with a grin on his face. He picks up one of my feet and pulls the first sock over it, adjusting with my help so it doesn’t get caught between my toes and so forth. He pulls it all the way up. (I’m trying to get him to also turn it around the right way, etc. as he likes things backwards and I DO NOT.)

After the second sock is securely in place, he beams, says “Good job, Zack,” and stands up to leave. Or sometimes he picks up The Foot Book, and we read. Left foot, left foot, right foot, right … I bet you can complete that sentence!