Sometimes, Noah's sock falls off. Not both socks. Just one. Don't ask me why the other one doesn't come off, because I don't know.
When this happens, I usually know exactly where the other sock is.
But something in me can't stand to put it back on. There is something indescribably precious about baby feet.
As long as his toes aren't cold, I leave the sock off. And a little part of me is happy to see his mismatched feet whenever I look at him.