borrowed socks

With 95 degree weather, I don't think grocery stores bottle enough juice to fill our Munchkin cup when we go outside. I've resorted back to winter tactics - finding indoor play places. The one we went to today was just meh. It didn't look any different than any other one we've been to - moon bounces that intimidate Carter, a few play sets and a section for littler kids. Except: as soon as we walked in, the desk guy eyed Carter's crocs and asked if we'd brought socks. Ermmm (95 degrees outside) no?

So he (graciously?) rummaged through a drawer and handed us a pair to borrow. NBD, tweeted my brain, they're probably pristine.

A No to the pristine part. They felt clean in my hand, but they were a little brown on the bottoms. I'm sure I sound stuck up to the extreme, but shared public things like, I dunno, socks for random, sweaty kid feet skeeve me out.

It took a good 10 minutes to talk Carter out of his newly jibbeted, Mickey Mouse crocs. He wore them from the second he got out of his crib today, so I had to hide them at the bottom of my purse. But the socks, he wore.

Playing kitchen. In a toy cabin. With a Dumb & Dumber haircut. Wearing public socks. Saying neeeee (cheese) when his mommy asks him to.