(Max enters my bedroom)

Max: I’m pretty irritated about the socks.

Cassie: What?

Max: There are no dress socks any where. Where are all my dress socks?

Cassie: I don’t know. Wherever you stacked them up in your room. You should have a handle on your socks.

Max: Well I don’t. I need socks. Help me.

Cassie: Look through all your stacks of clothes…the sock stack…more carefully. Come on, dude.

Max: I already did that. Like five times. Honest.

Cassie: Find a pair of your father’s dress socks then.

Max: Where are those?

Cassie: In his bureau.

Max: Which drawer?

Cassie: The top drawer. On the left. Underneath all the white tube socks.

(Ten minutes later…)

Cassie: You’re back in here.

Max: Yes. Dad’s socks aren’t working out.

Cassie: What do you mean? It’s just socks.

Max: They’re totally uncomfortable. I can’t stand it.

Cassie: You should have figured out socks earlier than now.

Max: No lectures. Can you just come up with a sock solution? Please?

(Together, Max and I go back to Scott’s dresser drawer. We find a more tight fitting pair of socks.)

(Ten minutes later…)

Cassie: You’re back.

Max: Yes.

Cassie: What?

Max: It’s not socks.

Cassie: What then?

Max: Do you have an extra birthday card I can use for the girl’s present?