Pink Socks

It finally happened.

Jeanine’s sister, who has twin boys a year and an half older than Ben, said to me, buy things in pink. Then they won’t take your stuff.

I scoffed. I am not wearing pink.

You’ll see, she said.

Okay, I’m wearing pink now. Pink socks.

Seems my socks- because I wear very short socks- are in high demand. Ben and Zachary are always digging in my sock drawer.

Good thing they stay out of my underwear drawer, or else they’ll end up in therapy for the rest of their life.

Don’t ask.

When we were in Florida a few weeks ago, a pair of perfectly good goggles ended up in the trash. Why? They were pink. When Ben was younger, he loved pink. It was Blossom’s color, the head power puff girl.

Now? You have to be kidding. He won’t get near pink.

It’s a girl color, they all informed me when the goggles remained untouched.

Colors are colors. They can’t be girls or boys. They are colors.

Nice try.

The only plus to their pink phobia? I’ll have socks to wear.