Her attention to detail? Well... you can't be good at everything.
I may have mentioned that I was the third child. And Mom was tired. One of those little details that fell through the cracks? Socks. I was always scrambling for socks. Specifically, matching knee socks to wear to Sunday school. If I found a pair, one was reliably stretched out and sagging around my ankle. As a result, I swore that my child would never have this problem.
Fast forward to this morning.
Z: Mom? The only socks in my drawer have gray on them.
Me: Humph? Zzzzpth. (I'm not a morning person.)
Z: The gray is going to show with my Mary Janets! (aka: Mary Janes. How cute is that?)
Me: What happened to all of your socks? If you would just put them in the hamper... (devolves into incoherent grumbling).
Z: I don't know. All I have are the gray ones.
Me: (hangs head and sighs) Get some out of the dirty clothes hamper.
And if fully becoming my mother wasn't enough for one morning? Five minutes later this conversation happens.
Z: Mom? All my panties are pinching me. Can I just not wear any today?
Me: (Brain explodes and I die. The end.)
Post Script: It was underwear day at the Mother Ship (Target) today. Socks and underwear for everyone! LOTS of socks and underwear.