Toe socks are a new addition to our household. Tween parents know of what I speak. Usually knee-high, toe socks are essentially gloves for the feet.

I understand that there are high-performance versions of these toe huggers favored by some runners and outdoor enthusiasts (check out

www.injinji.com

for one option). But those aren’t the ones I’m talking about. These are the trendy toe socks that daughters like mine bought at the mall earlier this winter with their allowance money or gift cards –and have worn every possible moment since.

They come in rainbow stripes –so 1970s, another ripe time for toe socks. Our daughter also received as a gift toe socks covered with pink hearts, purchased online I was told.

At our house, toe socks have replaced her previous favorite socks, these being low-cut socks from Target.

These came in a pack of seven –one for each day of the week, each pair in a different color. It’s a good thing I didn’t look at our daughter’s feet to remind myself what day it was because she routinely wore the Tuesday socks on Friday, the Mondays on Wednesdays, etc.

Nor did the color of the sock necessarily coordinate with her outfit. I don’t know what she needs more –a calendar or better lighting in her room.

Perhaps this is some sort of subconscious revolt on her part, given the fact that when she was a tot I dressed her in socks that matched her outfits. Oh, come on, tell me you’ve never shopped at Baby Gap or Gymboree (I drew the line at buying matching barrettes and headbands).

Anyway, toe socks are popular with girls in Wales, too. How do I know this? Because while researching this subject, I came across an article published in the Western Mail by a mom. Or should I say a “mum,” this being Wales and all?

Her own daughter apparently used her mobile phone in her bedroom to ring up her sleeping mother at 1 a. m. The 11-year-old wanted to alert her to the fact that she had lost one of her new toe socks under the duvet and had cold feet.

“I marvel at her optimism and faith. How can she imagine I am interested in the whereabouts of her socks or that I’m going to leave my bed to look for them?” the mum wrote.

I am not having a whole lot of trouble envisioning this scenario. Our daughter does not have her own personal cell phone, although she knows how to work mine far better than I do.

Sure, I have thought about it –but only in the context of its practicality in the event of emergency. Not a fashion emergency.

Although, come to think of it, I do recall her once calling her dad on his cell phone to ask him to please run down to the basement to retrieve her favorite sweater from the clothesline.

She was upstairs getting dressed. We were downstairs greeting guests at the front door. She needed the sweater and found a real softie to retrieve it for her.

Anyway, these days those toe socks keeping sailing down the laundry chute in one big ball, which means whoever is doing the laundry not only has to unroll the socks but pull out each toe section one by one before washing.

This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home