Scene: Getting ready for our annual camping trip and we’ve been charging the batteries for the walkie-talkies. Grant had a dental check-up a few hours before and had chosen plastic vampire teeth from the dentist’s “goodie box” as a reward for being a good patient not squirming too much.
I noticed a lone sock sitting on the dining room table. (Odd, because they’re usually under the table.)
As I head over to get the sock, laughter starts coming from it. Yes, from the sock. I pick it up and find a walkie-talkie in it.
I know exactly who is on the other end of the walkie-talkie… and I know he’s within earshot, so there’s no need for me to get all breaker-breaker ten-four on him. I yell down the hallway.
Grant: (Through the sock) “Yes?”
Me: (Still yelling) “What’s with the walkie-talkie in the sock?”
Grant: (Still through the sock) “It’s the Evil Talking Sock you wanted.”
Me: (Still yelling, but now also trying not to laugh) “I never said I wanted or needed an evil, talking sock. I never even thought it.”
He has now joined me in the dining room.
Grant: “Oh. Ok. Well, then it’s to scare Conner when he walks by.”
Me: “Carry on then, carry on.”
I don’t know if he managed to scare his big brother. However, I do now have another theory as to how I wind up with so many single socks around here.
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