Lucas loves to fold clothes, particularly socks. So, over the weekend, when he saw the laundry basket in the bedroom piled full of clean laundry, he asked if he could help. I tossed him a smattering of paired socks I hadn't yet gotten to, and watched as he folded each one in half.
Just when he was starting on the third or fourth sock, I realized that I was failing to take advantage of a prime opportunity — the baby was napping, Lucas was otherwise occupied, and I was awake — I could actually take a shower.
I began to quickly strip. Meanwhile, Lucas was abandoning his domestic bliss in favor of Sock Boy. On one hand goes one of Husband's black dress socks and on the other goes one of Husband's white gym socks, and thus: Sock Boy is born.
By the time I got into the shower, Lucas was karate chopping his way around the bedroom with his karate sock gloves.
By the time I poured the shampoo, Lucas had entered the bathroom and was using the socks to channel various superpowers — such as being able to see through shower doors. (Note: We have the standard, semi-transparent shower door, so some of Lucas's superpower claims are questionable!)
As I stepped out of the shower, Lucas was hovering near the bathroom door. "Still karate chopping?" I asked.
"No Mommy, I'm sweeping." Apparently the karate sock gloves were now Swiffers of some sort.
While I was getting dressed, Lucas was trying to fix the "bery" old sidewalks (i.e. the seams along the hardwood floors) by pouring cement — through the socks, of course.
I am now clean, dressed and primped, and Lucas is back at karate chops. Husband walks in and immediately finds himself on the receiving end of a nice sock-chop. "Wow, that's some chop!" Husband exclaims. "Where did you learn that?"
"From Mommy. During our karate chop lesson."
Lesson? Really? I don't remember such an exchange. But I was glad our lesson, whether real or imagined, had such a positive impact on Lucas. In fact, I was glad that I took a shower that day for more reasons than just getting clean! During those 20 minutes, with no TV on; no little brother in the room; no distractions; and no cars, trucks, or other "real" toys to speak of, Lucas' wonderful and vast imagination was hard at work, and I was privileged to catch a glimpse into it. Socks and all.