So when Jeromy walked in the door, he was pretty much greeted by a miserable-looking wife who, on the verge of wailing, accused him of accidentally throwing away all of the baby socks. We both re-hashed our respective memories of what happened on the night in question, but after a few rounds of "did you look in the hamper?" and "did you double-check the closet?", we both concluded that the precious, never-used baby socks were probably chilling at the landfill by now.
However, after fearfully checking my face for any signs of lip-quivering, Jeromy decided to go check the garage one last time to see if any of the bags we had brought down were still hiding somewhere. Sure enough, at the bottom of a bag of boxes and packaging, he found the baby socks. I'm not sure which one of us was more relieved and excited; me, because the collection of adorable socks had been restored, or Jeromy, because a pregnant wife meltdown had been averted.