While in the park we saw oodles of people in flipflops and sandals. I just don't get that. I know full well when I get dressed for a day of walking 40 gazillion miles that I'm wearing tennis shoes because life is too short to wear uncomfortable shoes. Especially when you're walking. A lot. And it's August in the Ozarks. Okay, yes, sandals are definitely cooler, but when it's all said and done I'd rather my feet be not screaming in pain with every step rather than oh so cool and air conditioned. And this policy goes for my children, too. They wear their tennies when we go to SDC.
There is a place in the park just for kids, called Geyser Gulch. It's chock full of ADHD-causing amusements, including a 3-story high jungle gym thing that strikes absolute fear in my heart and I've never let my children climb on it. It also has a sand box the size of Wrigley Field and no, my children have never played in that either. (I have issues - cat turd issues.) But they are free to play with the gigantic water canons and splash around in the little area of sidewalk that has random jets of water that will squirt right up your shorts if you're not careful. We visited that area of the park several times during the day to get the kids nice and wet, then we'd take them on a ride and they'd cool off.
Well, after splashing around in the water numerous times during the day, Kady's Stwawbaby Shootcake shoes with stwawbabies on the sides that "wight up" with each step, were good and squishy. We had just gotten off of Fire in the Hole, an indoor roller coaster that Mrs. Coach seems to think ducking at the end works to keep you dry but I'm here to tell you I ducked and I got soaked, and were waiting on some benches for Mom to get back from taking TotTwo to the restroom. Kady decided to take her shoes off and what was inside those squishy stwawbaby shoes were ten very pruny, fish-belly-white piggies and two nasty little things that I'm fairly certain were my youngest child's feet.
I sighed when I saw her wiggling her pruny piggies in the sunshine. Have you ever tried to put wet socks back on a four-year-old? I wasn't looking forward to that, but at the same time I'm sure it felt good to air out those mildewy feet of hers.
They had played in a sand table in the Kid Art exhibition (newer, colored sand that was indoors and didn't look like there was any chance that a rogue cat turd was lurking somewhere beneath the surface) and her socks were tinted pink from where her brother had dumped a scoop full of pink sand over the side of the table. I picked up her socks and shoes to shake them out and after flicking wet pink sand all over everyone in a 10 foot radius of me, tucked the wet socks down into her shoes. It was then, as I was tucking her little socks with the purple toes down into her super cool preschooler light-up shoes that I saw it -
a ginormous green booger.
On. Her. Shoe.
How on earth my youngest child came out of an indoor roller coaster with an infectious-looking green booger the size of a small slug smeared all over the top of her shoe I will never know. But I took one look at it and my stomach lurched and I gagged. Then in a disgusted, bordering-on-panicky voice said, "Oh. My. Gosh. (gag) Look at what is ON HER SHOE!!" Tater walked over to me, took one look at the booger from Hades and promptly gagged and held her hand over her mouth. Really, it was that bad. About that time, Mom walked up and asked what was wrong, finding her two daughters pale with a tinge of green, holding their hands over their mouths and the eldest of the two holding a pair of sneakers out at arm's length. Because she's a seasoned mother and grandmother she didn't gag or turn green but immediately turned away like I was holding the Ark of the Covenant and the top was sliding open to melt our faces clean off.
Tater said, "Throw the shoes away, Kristin! Sacrifice the shoes!!" But I couldn't do it. The very thought of the booger made me gag, but the thought of throwing away the shoes, the shoes she "wuvs" because "dey wight up" made me sad. So I picked up my barefooted, pruny-toed girl, fully prepared to piggy-back her the rest of the day, and we walked to the nearest store to ask for a plastic bag. They didn't have plastic, but offered me a paper one. I thanked them, disgustedly dropped the shoes in and was turning to walk out of the store when Abby said, "Look! A barrel of flip flops!!"
And for the rest of the trip we walked a little slower. Not because Kady was wearing flip flops and her feet hurt. No, it was because the flip flops have gignatic pink silk daisies on the thong part and she was walking slow so she could admire them.
I am doing laundry tonight and because I'm a bit behind in this chore, the booger shoes have been sitting in the sack since Sunday afternoon. I took the socks out of the shoes and put them in the hamper when we got home, but the shoes stayed in the sack. I just couldn't deal with them. But tonight I got brave and opened the sack to find that the booger has shrunken and dried, not unlike a salted slug.
And I'm not above bribing Mr. Diva with sexual favors if he will effectively wemove da boogah fwom da wight up Stwawbaby Shootcake shoes.