Sock it to Me, Baby

Beauty in the day: still not sure how this happens….
He came into the office and addressed Miss Kit. “My socks got wet.”
Miss Kit investigated. “Were you jumping in the puddles?”
He confirmed that he was.  This is quite a thought, since we live in the Pacific Northwest, and on normal days we don’t see this one.  Yet now, in the freezing temps,here we are.

I am not very good at the “one eyebrow raised in irony” expression, but since you can’t see me, you can simply assume I’m doing it well.

Just then, another tyke entered to speak with Miss Kit.
“My sock got wet.” My eyebrow is already raised, and remains that way while Miss Kit investigates again, with the same result.

(It should be noted here, that Miss Kit gave the following instructions: “Go to the bathroom, take off your socks, wring them out, and get some paper towels and try to dry them off as well as you can.” – I muffle a silent “lol”, which sort of negates what a “lol” is, but this is what happens, regardless.)
A good length of time goes by, and we are trying to be efficient in the office. Miss Kit has now gone home, and I get a visit from a once-upon-a-time spanish-gaelic singer who, because, why not – claims to have wet socks.

I am officially getting good at the eyebrow thing.

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