The Great Sock Swap
The Morning of the Missing Socks
It started on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, which is exactly when the silliest things like to happen. Irie hopped out of bed, her spiky medium-brown hair sticking up in every direction and her small light-blue bow already a little bit crooked, and opened her drawer.
There was one sock. Just one. A stripy red one, all by itself, looking very lonely and very confused.
"Mom! Dad!" Irie called. "My socks have run away!"
Down the hall, her toddler brother Omie toddled out of his room wearing one blue sock and one bare foot, his short spiky medium-brown hair bouncing with every step. He held up his socked foot proudly, as if to say, "Look! I found one!"
But when the whole family checked, it was worse than anyone thought. Every sock in the house was missing its partner. Dad had two left socks. Mom had a dinosaur sock and a pineapple sock, and neither one matched the other. The laundry basket was empty. The socks had simply vanished — or, as Irie put it very seriously, "been sock-napped."
The Great Sock Hunt
Irie grabbed her detective notebook and declared a Great Sock Hunt. Omie grabbed his toy truck and declared, very loudly, "Vroom!"
They searched everywhere. They looked under the beds, behind the curtains, and inside the shoe basket, where they found one sock wearing a shoe like a little sleeping bag. In the kitchen, they found a sock in the fruit bowl, snuggled up next to a banana like it was taking a nap.
"Found one!" shouted Irie, waving the banana sock in the air.
Omie giggled and pointed at the plant pot, where a green sock was poking out of the soil like a strange new flower. Then Irie opened the teapot — just in case — and out popped a starry sock, as if it had been having a tea party all by itself.
Everywhere they looked, socks turned up in the silliest places. A sock in the bathtub, pretending to be a washcloth. A sock on the bookshelf, reading a book. A sock in Dad's slipper, and one very brave sock hanging from the curtain rod like it was on an adventure.
The Sock Thief Revealed
Just when Irie was about to declare the case unsolvable, Omie toddled over to his toy corner, dragging his truck behind him. Inside the truck, tucked under a blanket, was a whole pile of socks. And sitting right in the middle of the pile, wearing a sock on each ear like fancy earmuffs, was Omie's teddy bear.
Omie clapped his hands and laughed. "Bear cold!" he announced proudly.
Irie stared. Then she burst out laughing too. Omie had not been stealing socks at all. He had been helping. When he found a sock on the floor, he tucked it into his truck to keep it warm, then shared it with his bear, then with the plant, and then, apparently, with the teapot.
"He was giving every sock a new home," Irie said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "A very silly home, but a home!"
Omie nodded very seriously and put a sock on his head like a hat.
The Mismatch Problem
There was still one problem. Even with all the socks found, none of them matched. The stripy red sock's partner was nowhere to be found. The dinosaur sock's partner was hiding in the toy box, wearing a toy crown. Irie lined them all up and tried to make proper pairs, but it was like matching puzzle pieces from different puzzles.
"I can't find a single match!" Irie groaned, flopping down next to the sock pile. "What are we supposed to wear?"
Omie did not look worried at all. He sat down in the pile, pulled on one stripy sock and one starry sock, and stood up to show them off. He wiggled his toes and did a little happy dance, absolutely delighted with himself.
"Vroom!" said Omie proudly.
Mismatched and Marvelous
Irie looked at her brother's mismatched feet, then did something very brave and very silly: she put on one stripy sock and one starry sock herself.
"Ta-da!" she said, striking a pose. "Mismatched Irie!"
Omie cheered. Mom came in wearing a dinosaur sock and a pineapple sock and said, "Well, if we're all doing it…" Dad came in wearing two left socks and said, "I was already doing it, actually."
So the whole family spent the day mismatched. Irie wore stripes and stars to the park, where she ran faster than ever, just to prove that mismatched feet can run perfectly well. Omie wore his socks to build the tallest block tower in the history of block towers. The bear kept his earmuffs on all day, because a bear with warm ears is a happy bear.
That night, as Irie put her stripy sock and her starry sock side by side on her bed, she smiled. They did not match, and that was exactly the point. Being yourself does not mean matching everybody else, sock for sock. Sometimes the silliest, most mismatched thing is also the most wonderful thing — especially when you wear it proudly, with your little brother dancing beside you.
And from that day on, in Irie and Omie's house, Mismatched Sock Day happened whenever anyone felt like it. Which, as it turned out, was quite often.