Baby socks have an astonishing effect on people: they reduce most people to a gibbering mass.
"Do you think these would fit a newborn?" I asked the lady in our local yarn shop. I don't have access to any babies, so it's hard to tell if they're big or stretchy enough for a baby foot. Mrs Yarnshoplady, on the other hand, knits a baby sock a night (and may I just add that I can crochet two baby socks per evening. Na-na, knitted socks!)
"Ooooh," says by-stander, "Yook at those cyute yickel baby socks!"
"Just imagine teensy-weensie tiny-winy baby toes in these yickel, yickel socks!" says another, sticking two fingers down the sock and wriggling it, like a twitchy baby foot.
"Awww! I yove baby socks! So sweeeeeeeet!" says an older lady, who's sitting in the corner knitting a beautiful jumper.
Now, these are women who've probably knit or crochet dozens of socks in their lifetimes, but they're not even immune to Lure of Miniature Socks.
In fact, the only person who's able to resist a baby sock is a friend of mine, who swears that baby socks give her the heebie-jeebies. I'm not sure why, I think it's the thoughts of those tiny, pudgy toes and teeny pearly toenails. All the more reason to learn to knit or crochet, I tell her, but my recommendations fall on deaf ears.