I had a nice glass and iron candle holder in the center of the kitchen table. There was a pretty blue candle in it that pulled in the colors of the nearby furnishings.
Now there is a basket of socks.
My three teenage sons shower and then dress each morning in their respective rooms. They share socks, however, and those have always been stuffed in a common drawer for them to pull from.
Socks are a pain. I am often standing at the kitchen table, laundry basket on a chair beside me, tackling the sorting and matching of 81 black Nike socks that vary only by either the color of the little swoosh, whether there is a grey ring inside the top hem, or by how much they have faded over time. If you haven’t had a good time in a while, join me. It’s kind of like the game where you have to study the two pictures that are almost identical and circle the minute differences. And just like the kids level-up in video games, my aging eyes enhance the sock challege year by year.
All the matches then go into a collective sock drawer in a nearby room for the boys to pull from. So the barefooted boys get to the kitchen, get their breakfast, and then wander off to the drawer to don their socks.
It occurred to me, as I sorted these socks while standing at the table, the basket of single socks on a chair beside me, that the kitchen table is where the boys are when they need socks. So why the extra trek?
I moved the candle in it’s glass and metal display, grabbed a wire basket, and filled it with matched socks.
The next morning’s ritual was akin to studying animals in their native habitat. One by one the boys each sat down, did his breakfast thing, the thought of socks washed over him, he lifted his head, saw the basket, grabbed a pair, and put them on.
Never a comment or question from either of them. Simply, “this is what I need, here it is, I’m moving on.”
And so I have a centerpiece of socks.
In the same vein, you get a CookieText® that has napkin and a knife in the box.
At home and at CookieText I try to make it easy.
Our team aims to anticipate the CookieText ‘experience’ from start to finish and make it as simple for the sender to give as it is for the recipient to enjoy.
Let’s say you are the lucky recipient, you open your CookieText®, are touched by the kindness of the message, want to dig in, and in the same second you realize it needs cutting, you see, right there: tucked neatly on the right side of the cookie cake, is the little wooden eco-friendly knife, just the exactly what you needed.
So at home I have a centerpiece of socks, and at work we put a knife in each box.
Different but the same.
Because it’s really kind of special when someone anticipates your needs.
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