Crocs

Yes, you read that right. And yes, I am talking about those hideously awful rubber clog shoes that for God knows whatever reason are apparently the hottest thing since troll dolls and slap bracelets (yes, my references are OLD, but I’m getting old so there) (also, I realize that Crocs are probably not as hot as they were oh, a couple of years ago but I digress).

Many of you that know me know that while I would never consider myself a fashionista I have been known to rock out with some pretty slammin’ outfits, killer shoes (in more ways than one – poor toesies) and super cute bags. Many of you also know that since having Keagan I’ve used him as my own personal three-dimensional doll (action figure?) and have dressed him to the nines daily.

So why on Earth would I possibly be blogging about Crocs, shoes that could arguably be the ugliest piece of footwear known to man (and yes, I’m ranking that up there with Uggs and gladiator sandals as well)?

Well I’ll tell you why.

Today, much to my chagrin and dismay, my son, the apple of my eye, the cherry on my sundae, the little man that has been sporting madras shorts, polos and the cutest little teal Etnies ever…well, he wore Crocs to daycare.

::sigh::

On a trip to Disney my parents picked him up a pair of little red Crocs with Mickey Mouse cut-outs. This was months and months ago and honestly I had forgotten all about them (they were too big when they arrived). Until this morning. Ya’ll (I’ve been reading too much Not Super...Just Mom because I haven’t said ya’ll in MANY years) it is 80 degrees here. It seemed like pure torture to put him in socks and heavy sneakers. Plus, his little chubby feet are just not dealing with his one pair of sandals all that well.

And they matched his outfit of muscle tee and gym shorts.

Styyyyyyllllllin.

So, yes. My son owns a pair of Crocs and yes, he did in fact wear them.

But I swear on all that is holy that you’ll never see me in a pair. Even if they are pink. With polka-dots. And a ruffle. …right?