When Grammy Burned the Socks
Darling Granddaughter #1 loves to take bubble baths when she visits. On Saturday, she stayed in the tub so long the water got cold and she stepped out, shivering, as I wrapped her in a towel and started to blow her hair dry.
“Here,” I said, “I’ll warm up your clothes before you put them on.” So the Little Mermaid undies got a quick pass from the blow dryer, and then the shirt and then the leggings. Darling Granddaughter #1 giggled at the comforting warmth and the silliness of Grammy J warming her clothes with the blow dryer.
Then Grammy J got carried away and slid a sock over the nozzle of the blow dryer. The effect was most impressive – like a billowing windsock (pun intended) you might see at a small airport, indicating the direction and velocity of the wind. Impressive, that is, until the acrid smell of burning sock filled the bathroom. I quickly took the sock off the blow dryer only to find it riddled with holes.
That, my friends, was the fateful day Grammy J burned the socks (well, just one, but the plural sounds better).
Luckily, they weren’t her favorite socks.
“What’ll I tell my mom?” she asked, perhaps worried about an inventory when her suitcase was unpacked at home.
“Tell her Grammy J bought you about twenty pairs of socks this summer, so she’s not too worried about this one.”
The crime scene is recreated in the photo below. Notice the three holes and the word “happy” on the sole.
Charges are pending.