Not what I ordered

At what age do we realize that socks do not magically appear in the sock drawer? It has been a rough morning and I don't remember choosing this life for myself. I know these days only pop up once in a while, so I am grateful for such great kids and great days every other day. But, today, in a round about way, I called my child a dweeb and I need to be taken to counseling. This morning Addy was being great so rahh to her.
Bryson and Cole have been making these dumb, folded, paper, chomper things and I hate them. This is how the bad started:
Me: Bryson, why are you not dressed?
Bryson: I can't find any black socks.
(All 4 kids wear black socks everyday, so that's at least 30 black socks that need to washed and folded and put away a week, counting Randy's and my own.)
Me: Did you wash your clothes this week? (Bry and twins are doing their own laundry-kinda, well not really at all.)
Bryson: Ya, but there are not any clean black socks.
Cole jumps in: We can only find girl black socks.
(To make things easier, we have all uniform clothes in the guest bedroom including all of the kids black socks in 1 drawer. Come on--that's simple right?)
Bryson: I don't know why I can't find any boys black socks.
Me: (As I was loosing it, maybe just a soft yell.) Do ya think the Magic Sock Fairy forgot to put the socks away?
Bryson: Mom, I don't know where to find them and anyway, Cole and Corah wanted me to fold these guys for them.

Me: (Counting slowly to 10 in my head) Bryson, please get some socks in the clothes basket in the laundry room and get your stuff in the car.
We all got in the car to leave and somehow 5 thousand of these dumb chomper guys got in too.
They are so adorable. I got these out of the trash. The other 92 of them were too crumpled up from last night. And, the really good ones, with teeth and eyes and tongues and wings got taken to school. So, I am trying to be grateful that these are simple, harmless joys for kids and they are just being creative and cute. But, I couldn't contain myself any longer when Bryson started chomping them in my face while I was driving. He just had to make these weird loud screeching noises for me to loose it.
I am such a bad mom because I didn't think before I spoke.
Me: Bryson, stop that!!
Bryson: eeeerrrrwwcccccc
Me: Bryson, only dweebs made those kinds of things when I was in school.
(I don't even say the word dweeb, in fact, I don't think I have ever said that word.)
There was a pause.
Corah in the back with her nice sweet voice: Mom that wasn't very nice.
Bryson: Mom, my friends know me and they like them. They make them too. Anyway, I don't care if they call me that.
I stuck my foot in my mouth and softly said, "Bye. Have a good day. I love you all."
So, now I am home and realize that I do not deserve the kids I have. Should I really not care so much if they are not doing their laundry?
I will love and kiss them all when they get home and I guess I will just have to fold dumb chomper guys too.........Such a wonderful life if my worries are socks and chomper guys!!!
(Corah corrected me--the paper things are not chomper guys, they are lizard heads...duh)