“Mum, Mum. Where are my socks?”
“Have you tried your drawer?”
“Yeah they’re not there.”
“What d’you mean not there. Your socks are in your drawer.”
“No, not those socks. My other socks, I need my other socks.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” Jilly ran up the stairs to where her six year old daughter sat in the middle of her bedroom floor. The dresser drawer was open and the contents scattered hither and yon on the pink carpet. “Milly, what on earth are you doing?”
“Socks.” The little face turned towards her the expression open and slightly puzzled that her mummy had even had to ask.
“Pink. Pink socks.” Milly came as near as she dare to tutting. Honestly, it was so obvious wasn’t it – pink jumper ergo pink socks (although in all honesty she didn’t think ergo – well she was only six).
“Can’t you wear the white ones?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not with a pink jumper. No I need pink ones.” The sound of the baby spiralled up the stairs. Jilly had left him safely fastened in his high chair but now he had missed her and was taking steps to bring her back. It had worked before, it would work again. The bawling increased in both decibel and urgency.
“Socks Mum, pink socks.” Milly was gazing at her with wide guileless eyes.
“I think they’re in the wash sweetie.” Jilly had taken a couple of steps from the room out onto the landing. The noise of the baby screeching was louder now, she could hear the dog barking at the back door. He always became upset when the baby cried. Milly’s lower lip was starting to quiver and great tears were gathering in the precious blue eyes. “But Mummy, it’s the party today.
“I know sweety but you can wear the white ones, they’re pretty.”
“But, they’re not pink.”
“Come on downstairs with me sunshine. The baby’s on his own and the dog needs to come in.”
“But mummy my socks.”
“I know, I know pink socks.” Jilly could feel her heart start to thump. The crying had turned to screeching and the phone had started to ring. She knew that would be old Mrs Beech next door ringing to tell her that the dog was barking and could she let him in please. She knew Mr Beech wasn’t well but for heaven’s sake did her neighbour truly think that she couldn’t hear the dog. Well, the baby was crying so loudly now that she could only just hear the continuous yap, yap, yap. She reached her hand towards Milly. “Come on sweety down stairs and have your breakfast.” She took a glance round at the chaos in the little bedroom. Her heart clenched as her darling daughter sniffed and snuffled the missing socks causing such terrible distress. She heard the baby screaming almost hysterically now and the dog had now started frantically scratching at the door. The phone was still ringing and now the kettle start to whistle.
She took a deep breath, bending forward she scooped up her sobbing daughter. Clinging to the banister she scuttled as quickly as she dare down the stairs. Like magic her appearance in the kitchen doorway silenced the baby, she leant towards him and mopped his tear stained face. Handing him a piece of banana she was rewarded with a watery smile. The dog was leaping like a spring loaded toy against the back window. She threw back door silencing both the animal and the phone in one movement.
Sitting Milly on her dining chair she poured a bowl of chocolate cereal and soaked it with milk. She ruffled the little girl’s hair and then went through to the utility room. Waving her hands high above her head she re-appeared in the doorway two little pink flags flapping in the air. Milly beamed, “Pink socks.”
Okay they weren’t washed but what the heck did it matter. Just another good deed in the life of a super heroin.