“What is that,” Lucy squeaked in disgust.
“What?” Her father replied, spinning around to pinpoint his error.
“Your feet!” She squealed. Looking down he surveyed his feet, finding nothing wrong he looked back to find Lucy shaking her head with disappointment.
“What’s wrong with them?” He asked, honestly.
“You can’t wear sandals and socks!” She screamed, her high voice causing a ringing sound in one of his ears.
“But it’s comfy,” he said, looking down at his feet once more. “The socks protect the feet from the movement of the sandals, otherwise the straps dig into my skin.”
“It is a fashion nightmare,” she responded, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
“I think it’s fine,” he said, shooing away her concern.
“The town will get the torches, the pitchfork, the priests! We will be chased out of our own home at this rate!” Her voice boomed. Shaking his head he looked at her own feet, which, was wrapped in bright pink, fluffy socks. Zooming in further, he saw the distinctly familiar patterned straps that his own feet wore.
“You are doing the same thing!” He screamed.
“Yes,” she responded, hair flick in tow. “But I’m beautiful so get away with it.”