I have completely failed on the sock front.

Our sock bin in the bane of my existence, an outward representation of my failure. With five kids I see so many socks come through the laundry that I’ve taken to tossing them into the sock bin to be paired later. So far we’re on five years of using the sock bin and I haven’t gotten around to pairing them just yet.

I’ve even run Archbold events where I give children a dime for each pair found. They were great successes but sadly, we were quickly back in the old boat in a week. And I’ve only got so many dimes.

In the beginning, the sock bin was just a small basket. It’s now a hamper. And the kids spend ten minutes every morning spelunking into the sock bin, staring and pulling and judging whether they’ve got a match or not.

My six year old this morning was sitting in front of the sock bin and saying, “These two don’t match but I’ve got long pants on so who really cares, right Dad?”

First, I thanked God that my wife didn’t hear it because there was definitely an implied understanding in her voice that she was sure I’d see it her way. I didn’t.

I need to change up the Archbold sock strategy before I have to build an extension onto the house and call it the sock room.