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The SockKids Theme Song
Have you heard the SockKids Song? You haven’t?
Click on the image below to hear two different versions (via YouTube). Many thanks to Mike Petrone for organizing the studio time. Click on the image below to listen to the two versions:
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When The SockKids Were Born
That November night was an evening like so many others, cold and dreary. It would end up being extraordinary.
My two daughters, separated by four years and divided on so many subjects, were in perfect disharmony again over another silly issue. One daughter wanted the window down for some fresh air while the other demanded more heat.
I kept my cool for the initial spurt of acrimonious words, offering a compromise by lowering the window halfway. I was more determined to keep my eyes focused straight ahead as our little car navigated the tricky curves of the Southern State Parkway along the south shore of Long Island.
“I’m cold, Daddy,” one daughter said, mechanically pushing the window up, igniting a fierce retaliatory response from my other daughter in the front passenger seat.
“No!” was her reply.
The window slid up and down several times, distracting me as I drove in the left lane.
“Stop!” I finally shouted.
It momentarily quelled the battle. A few seconds later, I heard the window slide down. And up. And down. And up.
By now, rush hour traffic was all around me as I headed back east to go home. I had enough. I reached over to push a button to give me control of the window. I took my eye off the car in the middle lane next to me and in that split second he crossed in front of me.
I stopped short and my left tire hit the narrow barrier. The car bounced up and down like a rubber ball, then spun around 360 degrees. It felt like we were in slow motion. I felt a momentary sense of relief as I could feel two tires in the back settle down. Yet, we spun around again 360 degrees. I remember thinking, “Oh my God, I’m going to hit someone and hurt them. Oh my God.”
It’s safe to say now during this brief moment I was preparing myself to die so I let my body relax. But it was only for a second or two. I fought to regain control of the bouncing car and steered it away from traffic and into the median on the left. The car darted off the highway and into brush, speeding toward a group of trees as I pressed hard on the brake.
My oldest turned around and said to her sister, “I love you.”
She then said to me, “I love you, Daddy.”
I kept pressing on the brake as the brush and branches scraped and battered the frame of the car. We came skidding to a stop, banging into a tree. The car was smashed in but we were unharmed. I made sure everyone was fine and sat there for a few minutes. I got back on the highway and drove home – in silence. No one asked to put the window up or down.
I walked in silence and went upstairs, turned off the bedroom light, laid down, and cried. Some tears were from fear, fear that I could have been the reason why my daughters never got to live through their childhoods. There were tears of joy, thankful for this “miracle.” There were tears of gratitude, too. I was grateful that I would have more days and memories with my daughters.
Grateful. Grateful to still be here and able to hug and tell my daughters, “I love you.”
I reflected back on that night many times and wondered what have I done wrong that these two beautiful people in my life can’t see how terrific their relationship can be. Sisters and brothers should always have great friendships.
I spoke about that moment a couple of years later during supper on a hot summer day. We were sitting down at a dining room table after a barbecue when I began my thoughts, remembering the instant my oldest told my youngest, she loved her.
Perhaps embarrassed, both of them diverted my thoughts again, this time making fun of my socks, mismatched as they were on this August afternoon. We started to laugh. Then another miracle happened. I saw some sighs from my daughters that they were actually enjoying each other’s company – at my expense.
I was fine with this situation.
I let them tease me some more. I gave them a big grin. Then I started thinking. Wait. Where do my missing socks go? What happens to them? Are they runaway socks? Do they seek other humans’ feet to warm? Could they time travel?
The laughter continued while my mind raced. While ideas were percolating, I still never left this sweet moment, relishing the smiles on their faces.
They were inspiring me.
Both of my daughters.
Together.
I started to draw up the concept inside my head. The excitement was building that I had something special to share with adults and children.
I looked down at my socks for a brief moment and whispered, “Why, thank you, my friends.”
I waited for the laughter to die down before I gave them both my gratitude.
They looked at each other with puzzled looks.
“Why?” asked my youngest.
“For showing me that remembering a tough moment can lead to a special one.”
On August 6th of every year, I wear mismatched socks to celebrate our extraordinary day, the day where my daughters enjoyed each other’s company and the moment the SockKids were born.
I hope they notice my mismatched socks more often.
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We’re All Faking It
I dropped the kid off at a friend’s house yesterday and stayed a few minutes to chat with the mom, my friend L. It’s one of those fortunate instances where the mom and I became friends when our daughters were about 10 months old but our children actually grew up to like each other. Granted, we threw them together on a regular basis so we could hang out and they had no choice in the matter, but giving toddlers narrow choices is part of the fun of parenthood. The girls parallel played for a few years and then discovered they enjoyed playing together. They’re both quieter, thoughtful kids who like a lot of the same things, so it’s not surprising they’ve chosen to be friends, but it’s nice all the same.
While L. and I stood on her driveway chatting, a couple of the neighbor kids came over and said hello before all of the kids–mine, hers, the neighbors–went off to play together. Just for an instant, I had this sudden flash of seeing myself as these kids must see me: as somebody’s mom, as just another adult.
A grown-up.
After the kids had all gone off, leaving the two mothers alone on the driveway, I said to L. “They think we’re grown-ups.”
“I know. I feel like I’m pretending,” she replied.
“Me too. All the time.”
I’ve had similar conversations with other friends at various times (those moments when you think, “We’re sitting around talking about mortgages and our dental health while our kids play–has it really come to this?”). Most of the parents–heck, most of the chronological adults I know–have had similar moments of feeling that they’re totally faking this whole responsible adult thing. I remember my mom visiting with the mom of the kids who lived behind us (they really would chat over the back fence). They seemed so together, so responsible, and so comfortable with themselves as, well, grown-ups. It astonishes me that I might possibly come off the same way to my kid and her friends.
But I guess I do.
I”m a grownup. I’m still the mom who jumps in the pool along with the kids, climbs the monkey bars, and stood on her head at a Girl Scout meeting. It’s a different take on adulthood than my mom had, but it seems to be working. Maybe this is what adulthood is supposed to feel like: You feel the same as you did when you were younger only with an overlay of shock that a bank would loan you enough money to buy a house or people at the grocery store call you “Ma’am.” We’re faking it, but we’re making it.
–by Susan Petrone
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Tagged adulthood, faking it, parent, parents, sock kids, SockKids, you're an adult now
Sudsy Interviews An Angel
Pippy’s Wish, written by Maddie Ryan, has become one of the most popular children’s book. Michael John Sullivan has written a review at Amazon.com if you wish to explore the angel world some more. has some questions for Pippy.
Sudsy, one of the SockKids, recently interviewed Pippy about her adventures.
Sudsy: Are you really an angel? I’ve never met one before.
Pippy: Well, right now, I’m an Angel-in-Training because I’m in Junior High, but once I get to High School I’ll be a full fledged Angel and hang out with all the cool flyers.
And you sure have met one or two, maybe even three or four before, only you were probably too busy to notice. You see…I have to stop and concentrate for a minute so I can remember everything I was taught when talking to humans. Wait, you’re not human, you’re a sock, but you talk, so that’s okay, it can apply to talking socks. At least I’m pretty sure it does. I talk to animals and fairies so I’m thinking socks….by the way you have a funny name.
Anyway, in case you haven’t noticed, sometimes I have trouble staying on one topic and I also sometimes have trouble remembering what Lucy…I mean Counselor Lucinda teaches us in class.
Okay, so you want to know if I’m a real Angel? Right? Right.
See, Angels are pure love…not like, I love cupcakes love, or in your case, I love soap-candy love, but love, like in your heart and in your soul. Angels have lots of energy…especially me, at least that’s what I’m told.
I…I mean some Angles can be a bit mischievous, and sometimes, because I…I mean they want to fix things or make things better, but sometimes not everything goes off as planned. Not that this happens to me a lot…actually, I best be in honest…because Angels are pure and honest….yes, it has happened to me.
But please understand I…I mean we don’t mess things up to hurt or cause harm, it’s because I…I mean we are still learning. We are always learning every day and even if we throw a curve ball…by the way, I can play baseball and hockey too…okay, back to what I was saying…even if we throw someone a curve in their life this helps humans deal with all sorts of things in life, and accept things and nudge them to work harder and so they be light…you know, shiny and smiley and loving.
And am I talking too much? Sometimes I tend to go off in all different directions, you can just tell me when I’m doing that or better yet, you better ask another question before something else pops in my head and I go in a different direction.
Sudsy: Can you fly? If so, where do you fly to? Can you fly anywhere?
Pippy: Yes and no and maybe. You see, I sort of can fly with my supersonic skateboard that I invented, but sometimes it doesn’t work as well as it should, and we’re not really supposed to take the skateboard to flying class. I’m learning and hope to earn my teen-Angel wings at graduation real soon and when I do….woo wee…yahoo! Yes, I will be able to fly anywhere.
Sudsy: How old are you? When’s your stitchday? Um, birthday.
Pippy: In human years, I am 12 years old. We’re not stitched, silly-socky, we are created out of energy, light, love and lots of guidance from the other angels that have been hanging around for lots of years. We don’t celebrate birthdays, but we sure love angel food cake, and we celebrate all the children’s birthday’s everyday with lots of smiles and jumping inside their dreams so they can have peaceful sleeps.
Sudsy: Do you have a mom and dad? What are their names?
Pippy: We have counselors, and teachers and Angels are all friends in a special way that makes us one big family.
Sudsy: Do you have a human to take care of like us? We get to warm smelly feet. What about you?
Pippy: Once an Angel graduates to High School then that Angel not only can fly and I mean, super-cool flying, we have to wait to learn more lessons to be assigned a charge to take care. As for me, well, you’ll have to read my story in Pippy’s Wish to find out if I ever make it that far.
Don’t worry, Sudsy, I promise, when ever I graduate and get a few charges to take care of, I’ll make sure they wash with pretty smelling soap so their toes will smell heavenly….get it? Heavenly? Then you can warm lilac or peach smelling feet instead of smelly ones.Sudsy: I like to put bugs on humans’ legs. What do you do for fun?
Pippy: I have so many things I do for fun, that sometimes turn into me doing extra chores, because they weren’t so fun for the misadventures I get into, and you’ll have to read Pippy’s Wish to find out what happens.
Sudsy: We get to spin around in a big washer. Do you swim?
Pippy: Never been in the water yet, I’m still trying to keep my head above the clouds without falling off my skateboard. I’m late for flying class a lot, which is why I haven’t mastered it yet. But maybe someday I’ll fly by a mermaid and she can show me how to catch a big wave and go surfacing and deep sea diving to visit her home and see all the ocean beauty way below…actually, maybe I should just stick to learning how to swim first.
Sudsy: What makes an angel special?
Pippy: Wow, Sudsy, you ask hard questions. Let me think. Well, there’s cake and pasta and songs named after us, so I think there is just so many special things about us, we are funny, cute at least I think so, we accept everyone because in our eyes everyone has something good and beautiful about them, and we try real hard to make people’s frowns turn upside down and give them hope when it looks like things are not that hopeful. We do lots of good stuff.Sudsy: Can you have playtime with me? Take me flying?
Pippy: When I’m not in class, that would a lot of fun. I can introduce you to my good friend Noah St. John. He’s so much fun and can help us both with our flying lessons. Then we can play at your place, where you can show me how to spin.
Thank you for visiting with me, Sudsy, you’re cool for a talking sock.
What Is Brave?
I have a kid who is afraid to watch movies. Some kids are afraid of the dark, some kids are afraid of dogs. I used to work in an indie bookstore that houses a highly refined, very friendly cat. One day two twin girls who were about three or four came in, saw the cat, and started screaming and crying inconsolably. Hard enough to make every adult who wasn’t their parent quietly giggle into their hand. The cat was insulted and left the room (which didn’t even ease the crying because He Was Still In The Building). Yeah, some kids are afraid of cats. Some don’t like clowns or spiders or costumed characters. My kid fears the silver screen. She’s patient enough to watch a 90-minute movie but says that she always ends up dreaming about movies after she watches them. And suspenseful movies scare her because she worries too much about the characters.
Suspenseful here is a relative term. When she was very small, she didn’t like Milo and Otis, the story of a cat and a pug dog who accidentally get lost and have a long journey back home. It’s a nice little movie with no human actors, just live action animals who “talk.” But when Milo (or was it Otis? Anyway, the cat) is on a raft and a bear is lurking about, my daughter was in tears because she worried the bear was going to get the cat. When we saw Arthur Christmas (in which Santa’s younger son manages to save the day), she spent the entire movie worried that the little girl wouldn’t get her Christmas present. We were fine with Matilda until the principal showed up. Finding Nemo? Forget it. Between the sharks and the lampfish, she didn’t make it through the first half hour.
My daughter and I have talked about how the hero in a movie always has a problem she or he has to work through. She knows this intellectually, but she also knows that images from the movie are going to stay with her and make it hard to sleep. Her simple solution is not to watch the movie in the first place. Plato said “Know thyself.” She knows herself. That’s pretty good for a seven-year-old.
Whether it’s a movie or a novel or a picture, every story is a journey in which the main character goes somewhere or does something and, one hopes, is changed in the process. My daughter’s journey has taken her from an orphanage half a world away to a family with two parents who are crazy about her, a couple of stupid dogs who think she’s another big puppy, and extended family and friends who think she’s the cat’s pajamas. She’s a brave little kid. It may sound funny to say “My child is brave” when she’s too scared to watch a movie. But the list of things that scare her is much shorter than the list of things that don’t scare her. She is brave enough to swim in the deep end of the pool. She is brave enough to go up to a girl she doesn’t know at the playground and ask if she wants to play. She is not afraid of the dark, the school bus, new foods, new places, or the lion in the Chinese lion dance. She is brave enough to touch and talk about the dead robin we found buried in the back yard. She is brave enough to talk to a friend whose father just died. She is brave enough to ask questions about her birth parents and accept that we don’t have many firm facts to give her.
If you happen to have a child with an irrational fear of, say, cats (or dogs or asparagus), don’t sweat it. I’m not going to attempt to use this piece to teach you how to make your kid brave because we all have something that scares us. Just remember that the list of things that doesn’t scare us will always be longer.
–by Susan Petrone
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Tagged brave kids, mothers and daughter, sock kids, SockKids
The SOCKKIDS 