SCENE

Fifth grade. I am standing in a courtyard between buildings. I am wearing glasses, a white and red t-shirt printed with illustrated dalmatian puppies and hearts, and pink cotton leggings tucked into purposefully mismatched socks: one white, one red. I am very proud of how well-coordinated my outfit is. Suddenly, from across the grass, a sixth-grader with long golden hair approaches me. She is flanked by two friends.

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED

Sixth-grader: [loudly and indignantly] “Are those your socks?”
Friends: [giggling in anticipation]
Me: [reluctantly] “… Yes.”
Sixth-grader: “That is so stupid.”
Friends: “HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
Me: [miserable]

WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID

Sixth-grader: [loudly and indignantly] “Are those your socks?”
Friends: [giggling in anticipation]
Me: “No, they’re yours. Want them back?”
Sixth-grader and friends: [silent confusion]

WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID, ALTERNATIVE VERSION

Sixth-grader: [loudly and indignantly] “Are those your socks?”
Friends: [giggling in anticipation]
Me: “Yep.”
Sixth-grader: “That is so stupid.”
Me: “Tell me, why I should care what you think?”
Sixth-grader and friends: [silent confusion]

CONCLUSION

“Are those your socks?” Really? They are on my goddamned FEET, what do YOU think is going on here? What an idiotic opening line. It was freaking amateur hour with this kid. And yet? It worked. Why did I let it work? Why, why, why?

On the other hand, she did have a fair point. A red sock and a white sock? What the hell was that even about?

And in case you’re wondering, WHY YES I DO STILL THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS.