When I was a young girl, I noticed that every year for Christmas, my maternal Grandmother sent socks as gifts to everyone in the family. Well, she also usually made us kids knitted mittens that were waaaay too big, and I always got a bag of Hazelnuts. I loved them, and still do.
By the time I was a smart-ass teenager, I was referring to her as The Sock Fairy. Which was fine with my family, until the one Christmas Grandma stayed with us. She heard us refer to her as such, and was mortally offended. She got all huffy, and said that if we felt that way, she would never get socks for us again. And she didn't.
It kind of became the family joke, who the sock fairy would be each year. Mom took over for a while, and after I got married, my mother-in-law became the sock fairy. I must say, she wore the title with pride. Each and every year, along with our other gifts, we always got socks.
Well, before Christmas came in 2010, my mother-in-law passed away. And that year is when I became the family sock fairy. I have taken to it with enthusiasm. I get socks for everyone, even my son-in-law.
And yes, this is the Grandmother who taught me to knit, whom I lovingly (not) call the Knitting Nazi.