Dirty Sock

Several days ago, Tommy was climbing all over the bed like he usually does, but this time he slipped off. He scrapped the back of his ankle on the end of the bed and landed on my head as I was laying on the floor. His wound was superficial, but it did hurt him. I held him as he tried not to cry and I wiped his tears away for him. He was okay until he saw his ankle. It was red because the top layer of skin had been scraped off. That was when he really started to cry. He asked for a bandaid. I humored him and put a bandaid on his ankle.

After 5 minutes he decided to check his foot. He sat down, peeled the bandaid back and . . . more tears, the ankle was still red. The bandaid went back on. He stopped crying, waited a few more minutes and repeated the process. After the third or fourth time, the bandaid wouldn't stick anymore. When I told him no more bandaids, he really turned on the water works.

It was past bedtime and he hadn't napped that day, so I knew that this problem had only one solution. Out of sight, out of mind. He wasn't crying because he was in pain, it was because he could see the wound. So I got a pair of socks out of his drawer and convinced him that if he put them on it would fix his foot. I was hoping that if he couldn't see it, then he would forget about it. I should have known better. Tommy rarely forgets anything.

When we woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was peel down his sock a little, saw his ankle was still red and started to cry. I thought to myself, "Maybe it really does hurt him." So I sat him on the couch with his blanket (yep, he's a blanket boy) and put an ice pack on his foot. That seemed to help. Tommy ran around and played like he normally does for the rest of the day.

Until bedtime. I took off one sock and then started to take off the other. He pulled his foot away and insisted I leave it on. I explained that the sock was dirty. No good. I let him keep the sock and we went to bed.

The next day, he played all day in his one sock. When it was time for bath, he was excited. He grabbed his favorite toys and headed for the bathroom. I undressed him and that is when he realized that the sock would have to come off. Tears started to flow. I thought if I just got the sock off and distracted him, then he would realize that his foot was fine. I got the sock off and put him in the bath. He seemed okay. I got him out, dried him off, dressed him and he just sat where he was, with a sad face.
Me - What's wrong, bud?
Tommy - I want socks.
Me - You don't need socks.
Tommy - I want socks.
Me - Your foot is all better, bud.
Tommy - I want socks. (sob)
Me - Will socks make you feel better?
Tommy - (slight smile) Yeah, I want socks.
Me - Alright.
Tommy - YEAH! Socks! (wipes eyes)
Jerome(Tommy's dad) - Why are you giving in to him?
Me - It's just socks. I'm actually glad he wants to wear them. The floor is cold.
Jerome - You're giving in to him.
Me - I'm comforting him.
Jerome - Giving in.
Tommy - I want socks.
I gave in.

For several days, Tommy wore his socks. Jerome would take off his socks and wrap his foot in a blanket or his pants or what ever was on the floor. This only served to trap Tommy. He would sit in the same spot for hours, with his foot wrapped, not moving because if he did his foot would come unwrapped. I would come home from work and find Tommy sitting in the middle of the floor with his foot wrapped and get him some socks. Jerome would give me the "your-giving-in" look and I would return it with a "It's-just-socks" look.

In the bath, Tommy would wrap his own foot with his wash cloth. His sock would get so dirty by the end of each day. I couldn't even remove the sock while he was sleeping. He would wake up as soon as he felt me tug at it.

I decided to try reasoning with him.
Me - Let's take off your sock, bud.
Tommy - Noooo.
Me - Yeah, bud, it's dirty.
Tommy - Noooo.
Me - Why? What will happen if you take off your sock?
Tommy - My foot will fall off.
Me - Your foot is not going to fall off, Tommy. (trying not to laugh)
Tommy - Yep. Foot fall off.
Me - Let's try it and see. If your foot falls off, I will put your foot and your sock back on.
Tommy - No. My sock is okay.
Me - Let's put on a clean sock.
Tommy - No. It's okay.
Jerome - Take off your sock, Tommy.
Tommy - (pouty lip, sob) No, please Dad, no.
Jerome - Nope. I'm taking it off and we are going to bed.

The sock came off. We went to bed. Tommy cried himself to sleep. With his blanket wrapped around his foot, of course.

Today, I came home from work and no sock! I'm not going to ask him about it.