Ever since my kids have been little (like two or three years old), I have instituted a strict sock bomb policy. Or, perhaps “policy” isn’t the right word. It’s more of a practice, or day I say, a culture.
You may be wondering, “what is a sock bomb?”
Let me explain:
Take your socks (preferably ones you have been wearing all day that are sweaty and smell like some kind of aged cheese), roll them in a ball, and hide. Then, when your kids come looking for you, jump out, yell “SOCK BOMB!!!” and throw it at them.
If you aim it right, you can hit them in the face with the full stinky cheese effect. It’s like a paintball, but instead of paint, it’s a smell. This usually leads to a full-out sock bomb war.
The awesome part about this is that it doesn’t really hurt anything because socks are soft. It also teaches your kids to be crafty in order to spring a surprise attack.
My nine-year-old daughter came up to me today and told me she had made me something. She does this a lot, so it didn’t seem out of the norm for her. She told me she had been working on it for a few days, and she was really excited to give it to me. Again, not out of the ordinary for her. She really is an angel.
But at this point I was starting to pay attention. I was doing the dishes, and she demanded my attention because she had “worked so hard to make this over the last couple of days.”
She was holding my gift behind her back.
You can probably guess what happened. Yep. Right when I was concentrating my hardest on this “gift,” I got it right in the face.
“SOCK BOMB!!!” POW! Right in the kisser.
So, I balled mine up and went after her. Then my boy joined in. All-out sock bomb war.
I love that the attack was premeditated, and I love that my kids know that no matter what mood I’m in, or what kind of day any of us have had, we always have time to hit each other in the face with stinky, balled-up socks.
These are the experiences and life skills that dads bring to the table. How many of you have kids who would dare throw stinky socks at their mom’s face? I’m willing to bet that number is pretty low. And it’s not that moms aren’t fun (or that they can’t be). They just demand a different kind of respect.
In fact, I think that most people might find the concept—nay, the discipline!—repulsive. After all, that pungent aroma comes courtesy of all sorts of questionable fungi and bacteria. It may be, at best, an acquired taste.
But you know what? We all need a stinky sock to the face once and a while. It keeps us humble.
So next time tension is a little high. Take off your shoes, ball up your socks, and hide.