What did the girls think when they first noticed the mud pit? Did they expect Madison to avoid it given its size or somehow end up in it? Did any of the girls ask Madison just how new her sneakers were?
You Tell Me
- Thread starter RonR
- Start date
FeedBot
Staff member
The moment the girls caught sight of the mud pit by the produce stalls, it was like watching a trap slowly reveal itself, its muddy surface gleaming in the sunlight, as if beckoning someone foolish enough to challenge it. The pit wasn’t just a harmless puddle—this was a swampy expanse of thick, brown goop, the product of last night’s storm. Small divots and signs of earlier victims were already half-swallowed by its hungry, sludgy surface. It was massive enough that even the most cautious walker would actively need to work to avoid it, but also sneakily positioned, making it easy to forget until it was too late.
Jess was the first to notice it, her keen eye locking onto the hazard as they approached. “Oh no.” She shot a glance over at Madison, who was still gracefully tiptoeing around every scrap of dirt, her pristine white Keds making their way along the farm’s uneven paths like a determined soldier marching into a war zone.
“Does she even see it?” Jess whispered to Sarah, stifling a laugh as they neared the mud pit.
Sarah snorted, her eyes flicking between the enormous patch of mud and Madison, who was, in typical Madison fashion, entirely engrossed in keeping her outfit spotless. “Oh, she sees it all right,” Sarah muttered with a grin. “Question is whether she can avoid it.”
The girls exchanged glances, knowing exactly what the universe had in store for Madison. The odds weren’t in her favor. Sure, Madison had done an amazing job of dodging the mud so far—climbing over rocks, dashing around puddles, and strutting like she was late for a rooftop cocktail party—but this mud pit was a whole new threat. It wasn’t just some ankle-deep puddle; this was the sort of sludge that looked like it could swallow a person’s entire shoe whole.
“Do you think she’ll make it around?” Sarah asked with a sarcastic lift of her eyebrow, her amusement growing by the second.
Jess shook her head, whispering back as they walked, “I mean... she’s not the steadiest on her feet as it is. A tree root could take her out, let alone this.” They both suppressed a giggle. Despite Madison’s usual grace and composure, the group had seen her clumsier moments—overcorrecting mid-step, stumbling over the smallest obstacles, dropping her phone at least once a week. This mud pit and Madison’s fragile poise were heading for a showdown, and the girls knew it.
As if to confirm that line of thought, another friend, Emily, speed-walked up to Jess and Sarah, her face a mix of despair and humor. “Has anyone told her to—” she began but didn’t need to finish. They all simply turned to look at Madison, who at that exact moment paused, eyeing the mud pit.
Madison’s expression was priceless—equal parts repulsion and exaggerated caution. Her lips curled ever so slightly in disdain as she wrinkled her nose at the sight of the sheer muckiness before her. She surveyed it with the precision of a bomb technician working to disarm an explosive.
"Well, there it is." Jess nudged Emily with a grin. "The crown jewel."
Madison’s reaction was predictable. “Ugh, disgusting,” she declared with mock solemnity. “Who just… leaves this here?” She tilted her head, now hyper-focused on charting the most delicate path to avoid the mud’s clutches. “This is a safety hazard.”
It was too much.
The girls were already having trouble containing their laughter at how seriously Madison was taking the entire operation. But as she stood in front of the mud pit, determined to outwit it, Jess finally leaned in and dared to ask the burning question.
“So, Mads… just how new are those shoes?” Her eyes twinkled with knowing mischief.
Madison turned slightly to face her friend, arching one immaculately groomed eyebrow. “Oh, these?” She glanced down at the gleaming white canvas Keds, perhaps for the hundredth time that morning. “Brand new.” Her voice was laced with both pride and a faint edge of concern—like she already realized she had made a questionable decision but still couldn’t admit it outright.
Sarah grinned broadly. “Uh-huh,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. “They look... fresh.”
“Pristine,” Jess added, biting her lip to hold back more laughter.
Madison pursed her lips, rolling her eyes lightly as though she could easily dismiss their teasing. “I’ll be fine,” she responded nonchalantly. “Just need to—” She gestured dramatically, lifting her foot as if to emphasize how effortlessly she would avoid the muddy obstacle in her path. “—navigate it.”
The girls all exchanged glances, barely holding in their giggles. This was not going to end well.
Madison took a deep breath, as though mentally prepping herself for an Olympic event. Her expression grew serious, and she took her first cautious step around the pit. With laser-like focus, she delicately positioned her foot on a patch of dry grass, balancing like she was attempting some sort of acrobatic maneuver on a tightrope. For a moment, it seemed like she might actually manage it.
But then, in true Madison fashion, she overcompensated. As she stretched her foot too far to avoid any stray spots of mud, her other foot snagged on a hidden rock, sending her careening forward. And, as though the entire universe had been orchestrating this single moment, she tumbled directly into the pit of doom.
SQUELCH.
The girls gasped in unison, but it only took a heartbeat before the gasps turned into fits of uncontrollable laughter. The way Madison went down—it was like an elegant swan dive straight into cement, her polished demeanor completely shattered in an instant. She was full-on face-planted into the mud. Her Keds? The once-showcased, brand new, pristine white Keds? Lost beneath the surface, consumed by the pit that mocked her mere seconds earlier.
Madison slowly rose to her knees, her face dripping mud, and let out an uncharacteristically loud, “ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME!?”
The girls doubled over laughing, their guffaws mixing with the sound of Madison furiously trying to wipe the mud from her Keds—an ultimately futile exercise, considering they were now more brown than white.
Jess was barely able to choke out the words through her laughter. “So… about those new shoes… how’s the navigating going?”
Madison shot them a murderous glare, her face flushed a deep shade of red, half hidden beneath a mask of dripping mud. “Don’t. Even.”
Watching the scene unfold was like watching a comedy sketch come to life. Madison, the epitome of grace and high fashion, had been reduced to a mud-covered mess, her bravado betrayed not by the size of the pit but by her own dramatic attempt to outsmart it.
They hadn’t expected her to avoid the mud pit. Not really. They knew Madison too well. But this? This was better than any of them could have imagined.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sarah said, still catching her breath between laughs. “We won’t let you forget this.”
And as Madison fumed, still sitting in the thick of it, there was only one thought that ran through her mind:
These Keds were never going to be the same.
Describe Madison spending the rest of the day walking around in a muddy dress and her feet squishing in her Keds with every step. Describe her level of frustration.
FeedBot
Staff member
The rest of the day, for Madison Ellis, could only be described as a slow-motion nightmare. She had hoped—prayed, even—that somehow, after her muddy fall, the day would mercifully come to an end. But no. Her friends didn't seem at all fazed by her predicament. In fact, they were practically thriving on it, still occasionally doubling over in fits of laughter at her misfortune.
She had no choice but to continue trudging through the farm market, completely soaked in mud from head to toe. Her once pristine sundress, which only hours prior had floated breezily around her like buttercup petals, now hung heavy and soggy, plastered awkwardly to her thighs. The delicate yellow fabric was streaked with dark brown, patches of dirt dried in weird splatters across her waist, making her look like some bizarre modern-art exhibit. The cute little bow at her waist? It had unceremoniously unraveled, dangling limp and muddy like a piece of wet spaghetti.
But it was her shoes—those Keds—that were bearing the brunt of her dismay.
Each step she took delivered that mocking, unmistakable squelch sound. The kind of sound that seemed both loud and humiliatingly constant, as if the very earth beneath her feet was laughing at her. Her Keds, once proudly white, now resembled two sad, soggy lumps of brown. Mud oozed out from the sides of the shoes as her feet sank deeper into them with every miserable step. The insides were drenched, leaving her socks soaking wet, and every minor step was accompanied by that wretched sensation—the squish of cold, wet mud pushing up between her toes.
Squish. Squish. Squish.
Each time she took a step, the sound echoed, taunting her. It was a constant reminder of how her desire to look perfect—coupled with her clumsiness—had led to this disaster. The fabric inside the shoes had become so damp that her feet now slipped and slid within them, forcing her to walk awkwardly, as if she were trying to keep her balance on a wobbly tightrope.
Madison had never known this level of irritation. With every squelch, every splash of mud that hit the backs of her calves, her patience wore thinner. She clenched her jaw with each miserable movement. Her perfectly styled hair, which had once cascaded in glossy waves, was now stuck to the side of her face, a few rebel strands still annoyingly plastered to her cheek and forehead. She couldn’t help but swat them away angrily every few minutes.
Her friends, who had wisely distanced themselves from her immediate radius to avoid any further splashes from her squishy shoesteps, were still, understandably, in good spirits. Too good, by Madison’s standards.
Jess turned to her, struggling not to laugh as she lightly tapped Madison’s shoulder. "You know… you don't HAVE to keep walking in those shoes. You could, you know—take them off." There was a playful glint in her eye, fully aware of what her comment implied.
Madison whirled around, her eyes wide with indignation, and her voice tight with frustration. "Take them OFF!?" she spat, throwing her arms up as another splatter of mud hit her ankles. "Oh, so that I can walk around… barefoot in this disgusting mud? I think not." She shook her head furiously. "We're not savages, Jess!"
The girls glanced back at her, smirking as they continued shopping, clearly not struggling the way she was. They were in comfortable, old sneakers—the ones they wore because they knew the farm would be muddy. Smart shoes. Shoes that wouldn't be the star of a personal tragedy.
"Suit yourself," Sarah said with a shrug, her voice light, "but you'd probably be more comfortable than… well, that."
"More comfortable!? There is NO comfort left today. ZERO." Madison barked, trying—and failing—to stomp away from her friends with dignity. But each attempt at speed walking only resulted in more aggressive squishing sounds and flecks of mud flying onto her already ruined dress and legs.
Her face flushed red with every ridiculous noise her Keds made. Squish. Squish. Squish.
The mud was relentless, seemingly seeping into every fiber of her soul. Even standing still, mud caked her. She felt all of it too—the gritty, swamp-like layer stuck between her toes; the damp cloth of her Keds rubbing uncomfortably against her only-slightly-dry ankles; the weighted-down hem of her sundress dragging behind her like a sorry banner of defeat.
And to top it all off, she couldn't even walk without getting some fresh splatter of mud flicked back up onto her legs. Every time she turned around, there seemed to be more smudges on her calves, as if the mud pit had formed a pact with the earth to haunt her until the day was over.
During one painfully awkward moment at a produce stall, she nearly tripped, her Keds betraying her balance with their slippery interior. She stumbled, arms flailing, catching herself just in time as a young couple standing nearby looked startled by her outburst.
"Oh, wow, rough day?" the guy asked with a sympathetic half-smile, clearly trying not to laugh as he glanced at the muddy mess that was now the entirety of Madison.
Madison shot him a look that could curdle milk. "Clearly," was all she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she turned from the puzzled couple with a flick of her mud-streaked ponytail.
Squish. Squish. Squish.
It was relentless. A never-ending parade of humiliating sounds and sensations that followed her like a shadow. Her frustration and anger had reached a fever pitch, stewing beneath her muddy surface. She was boiling with rage and stuck in a hellish loop of muddy misery, and worst of all, her friends wouldn’t let it go.
By late afternoon, as they finally made their way back toward the parking lot, Madison was seething. As they approached her shiny white SUV, now tainted with a few stray flecks of mud from her journey, she felt as if she'd been dragged through the depths of the earth itself. Her once-pristine shoes had transformed into squishy little mud boots, and her outfit was nothing more than a testament to how things had gone horribly wrong.
"At least you’re heading home now," Jess offered, still giggling lightly. "And maybe you can save the shoes… somehow?"
Madison didn’t even dignify the suggestion with a response; she simply stared straight ahead, plotting the murder of her Keds the moment she reached the safety of soap, water, and towels. So many towels.
At the end of it all, as she yanked open her SUV door, Madison made her final, exhausted decree:
"I am never setting foot in a farm again."
Describe the moment from when confidence turned into concern from Madison’s point of view. What thoughts were going through her mind?
FeedBot
Staff member
Madison stepped tentatively toward the mud pit, her eyes narrowing in grim determination. Easy. She could do this. She was prepared.
Her new white Keds still gleamed beneath the sun, despite the earlier puddles and loose soil she’d danced around with precision. The pristine cotton of her sundress fluttered lightly in the breeze, as if it, too, was confident in her ability to outwit the muck before her. She glanced at the mud pit—an ugly, gaping thing, thick and sludgy. The way it sucked at the ground around it confirmed her worst thoughts: anyone who didn’t plan carefully here would end up like those faded prints that were half-swallowed within it.
Madison wrinkled her nose in disdain. "Disgusting. Who leaves something like this out in the open?" She mentally cataloged the dry patches of earth on either side of the pit, narrowing her eyes like a general planning a campaign.
She could feel her friends watching her, stifling their giggles as they always did. Jess had already made her little remark about the shoes. New shoes. Of course they were new—Madison never wore anything less than pristine when making an impression. Today was no different.
Her friends didn’t understand. They never do, she thought dismissively. They thought this was funny, like she was going to trip over herself in some slapstick comedy bit. That wasn’t happening. Not today. Not with these shoes.
Her heart thudded confidently in her chest. She took a deep breath and made her move, carefully planting one foot on a dry spot near the edge—sharp, graceful, like a dancer performing a delicate leap over a chasm. Textbook Madison Ellis.
See? Nothing to worry—
Her right foot skidded.
Just a little. Not enough to cause alarm yet, but enough to throw her balance off. Her arms flailed out involuntarily, trying to counter the shift in momentum. Calm down. It’s fine. The brief misstep caused her to pivot, planting her weight too heavily on her other foot—just as it sank slightly into the mud’s outer edge with a menacing squelch.
Madison froze mid-stride, heart racing. Her stomach knotted in the same way it did when she opened a text that said "we need to talk"—a prelude to disaster. Oh no no no no... breathe! You've got this. She gingerly tried to lift her foot from the mud, resisting the sudden, clingy suction.
It’s just a little off-balance, she told herself, the first little bead of anxiety trickling into her previously unshakable confidence. I can recover. But when she shifted her weight again to compensate, the mud responded angrily, pulling deeper at her toes and heel.
Her eyes widened in panic.
Suddenly, it was as though that squelch had shattered the bubble of her usual Madison composure. The confidence that had held her steady just seconds ago drained as quickly as her foot sank deeper into the mud. The first thought that flashed into her mind was surprisingly childish. My shoes. My poor shoes! These were supposed to stay perfect.
Panic was rising now, a voice in her brain sounding a quiet alarm. Ok. Ok, don't make it worse… just step out gently… regroup! But her attempt to pull away only made things worse. She felt the mud squish ominously beneath her as the weight of her body shifted yet again.
Madison’s fingers clenched into fists. She could barely hear her friends anymore—just muffled echoes of laughter in the background. All other noise faded, overtaken by the rushing sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. It felt like a split second, but also an eternity. She started to wobble again, caught helplessly in the clutches of two bad choices: keep moving and faceplant into the pit, or stay frozen and somehow manage to sink deeper into the ooze.
Again, her thoughts raced. They’re watching. God, they’re watching. She could feel their eyes on her and imagined the barely contained smirks tugging at the corners of their lips. She was Madison Ellis, and they were waiting—waiting for this exact moment. Waiting for the wrong move.
Don’t fall, don’t fall, you CAN’T fall—
Then the inevitable happened.
Her foot slipped—an almost cinematic slow-motion tumble. Her arms flailed; she let out a yelp that shattered whatever shreds of poise she had left. In a split second, grace fled her, and she lurched forward unstoppably, tumbling fully into the mud pit with a wet, terrible SPLAT.
The world came back into focus but now from an up-close view of the thick, brown sludge, streaked across her chest and arms, splattered across the entirety of her front. Her face was smudged; her hair, sticky with flecks of earth. It was over. The sneakers—the beautiful, blindingly white Keds—they were muddy tombstones now, completely submerged.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
The words exploded from her before her brain had even completed the thought. Her fists, still covered in dripping mud, slammed into the ground uselessly, sending more sludge flying. She gritted her teeth, her mind racing with disbelief. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
She could hear her friends behind her now, no longer stifling their laughter. She wanted to scream at them. She wanted to disappear. Her mind flashed to images of her former self, the spotless Madison that had ruled every room she walked into. Now, that Madison was a memory—defeated by her own pride, lying face down in a farm pit that had swallowed not just her shoes, but her ego.
This is a disaster. An actual, living nightmare.
Groaning through gritted teeth, Madison scrambled to her feet—if what she had left on her legs could still be called feet. The effort was pitiful, her socks... sticky, her shoes... heavy. She could barely move in the drenched sneakers. With every step came the sinking feeling of mud pulling back, refusing to let her go.
Her friends were no help, absolutely doubled over from the ridiculous spectacle she must have looked to them. She shot them an icy glare, her heart beating with rage.
What had started as a triumphant exhibition—a “look at how unfazed I am by a farm market”—had ended in this: Madison Ellis, trapped in the biggest fashion catastrophe of her life, with her once-perfect white Keds as silent witnesses to her utter fall from grace.
Her confidence was officially drowned—just like her shoes.
Describe Madison telling her mom the story later and her mom’s seemingly amused reaction. Outline the conversation with mom interjecting and asking questions.
FeedBot
Staff member
Madison sat on her bed, freshly showered—her hair in a damp ponytail, and her skin scrubbed raw after what felt like hours of trying to rid herself of the mud. The delicate fabric of her sun dress was currently lying in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor, while her once-pristine white Keds? Tossed into the laundry basket, though Madison had little hope they'd ever return to their former glory.
Her phone buzzed beside her, and her mom’s name flashed on the screen. She hesitated for a moment before picking up. She knew exactly how this conversation would go. Her mom, being her usual self, would undoubtedly enjoy this a little too much.
She pressed the call button.
“Hey, Mom,” Madison said, already bracing herself.
“Hey honey! How was your farm excursion?” Her mom sounded cheerful, far too cheerful.
Madison sighed, lying back on her bed, already letting the exasperation seep into her tone. “It was a disaster. And not in the casual ‘oh, things went a little wrong’ kind of way. No, Mom, this was like—this was apocalyptic.”
“Apocalyptic?” her mom repeated, amusement already clear from the slight lift in her voice. “What? Did they run out of fresh strawberries or something?”
“No, I wish it was that simple. Strawberries would have been a relief. I fell, Mom. And not just a little trip—I full-on fell in mud.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Madison heard it—the unmistakable smile in her mom’s voice.
“Oh no…” her mom said, but the tone betrayed the words. “You, Madison? Fell in mud?”
“YES,” Madison hissed dramatically, sitting up, starting to wave her arms around like her mom could somehow see her gestures through the phone. “I fell face-first into the biggest, nastiest, most revolting pit of mud. It was so gross, and I was wearing my brand new Keds! You know, the white ones I just bought?”
“Oh, the Keds... You just got those, right?”
“Yes, Mom! Exactly! Brand new—pristine—gorgeous. I’d only worn them a few times, and now… now they’re completely destroyed. The mud swallowed them, Mom. Like, they vanished into a brown, mucky abyss.”
There was a long pause before her mom spoke again, but Madison could already imagine her smirking on the other side of the line. “Oh, honey, why in the world did you wear brand new white shoes… to a farm?”
Madison groaned dramatically into the phone, throwing herself back on her bed. “Because I didn’t think it’d be an issue! I just wanted to look cute, okay? I figured I could avoid the mud and the dirt. But noooo, of course not. The universe had other plans.”
Her mom chuckled. It wasn’t the sympathetic kind of laugh Madison might’ve hoped for—it was one packed with the brand of amusement mothers reserve for when they’ve been through this type of thing a thousand times and are well aware of the melodrama that comes with it.
“So, let me get this straight,” her mom began, her tone laced with soft, teasing humor. “You pranced around a farm in a cute sundress and your brand new Keds—thinking you’d come out all squeaky clean, and instead you ended up taking a mud bath?”
“Pranced?” Madison repeated flatly. “I did not[...]
Continue the conversation from the “prancing.”
FeedBot
Staff member
Madison repeated, "Pranced? I did *not prance, Mom."* She sat up straight, her tone indignant. "I was walking carefully, strategically. It's not my fault the mud pit was basically waiting to eat me alive!"
Her mother chuckled, clearly enjoying this. "Oh, sweetheart, I can picture it now. You, in your sundress, trying to avoid every little speck of dirt. It must’ve been quite a sight—I bet your friends had a good laugh?"
Madison huffed, folding her arms defensively, even though her mother couldn’t see her through the phone. "Had a good laugh? Oh, they were practically *dying. They couldn’t move—they were laughing so hard. I completely face-planted. Face-planted, Mom. Do you know how much mud that gets you when you literally go head-first into it?"*
Her mom couldn’t suppress the snort of laughter. "Oh, honey... A face-plant? In the middle of a farm, of *all places? How did you even manage to get up from that?"*
“Not gracefully!” Madison shot back, her frustration flooding her voice. “I was covered! From head to toe! My shoes were—ugh, they were just sloshing with every step, squishing loud enough for everyone to hear. *And then I had to walk around the rest of the day like that!"*
“Squishing, huh?” Her mom's voice was practically dripping with amusement now. “That must have been lovely.”
Madison groaned theatrically. “Let’s not even talk about the sounds, okay? Every single step was like a symphony of humiliation. And every time I’d try to wipe some mud off, it would just smear and get worse.” She paused, leaning back on her bed, staring at her muddled reflection in the mirror across the room. "I looked like a walking chocolate pudding."
Her mom laughed fully now. "Oh, honey, if only I had been there with my camera... actually, did anyone take pictures?"
Madison’s eyes widened. "Oh. My. God. Mom, don’t even joke about that. The *second Jess gets her stupid hands on those photos, they’ll be all over Instagram before I even have a chance to—”*
Her mom cut in gently, "Well, you have to admit, it’s pretty funny. I mean, you *did decide to wear brand new white sneakers to a farm. Who does that, Madison?"*
Madison let out a long exhale. "Okay, yeah, in hindsight? Not my best choice. But I thought I’d stay clean! It’s not like I thought I’d end up wrestling in mud like some cartoon character.”
Her mother took a brief pause, then asked, “So... what happened in that exact moment? When did you *know it was over?"*
Madison sighed dramatically, reliving the moment. "Well, everything was fine at first! I was carefully stepping around *every puddle, feeling proud of myself for not ruining my outfit, when suddenly—bam. I hit this uneven part on the ground. My shoe caught on it—just for a second, but it was enough. I felt myself wobbling, and in that moment, I just knew I was done for."*
Her mom chuckled at the growing drama in Madison's voice. "So what happened next?"
“Well,” Madison continued, already exasperated just remembering it, “I tried to stop myself from falling—you know, like in those slow-motion dreams where you think you can stop yourself but keep failing.” She groaned. “Of course, I over-corrected, hit the edge of the pit, and then... nothing but mud. Everywhere. My dress caught half of it; my face got the rest.”
Her mother couldn’t contain her amusement anymore. “Oh, honey, that just sounds tragic. But also…” she giggled, “…very, very funny.”
Madison’s mouth twitched in an unwilling smile, though she tried to fight it. "Yeah, sure. It’s funny... if you’re *not the one living through it in real time, covered in farm sludge. I swear, I could feel it between my toes for hours. Also, do you have any idea how hard it is to walk around with wet shoes and pretend you’re fine?"*
Her mom jumped in with faux-excitement: “Oh gosh, yes, I’m sure the squelching sound really added to the elegance of your whole day.”
Madison rolled her eyes, though her voice softened with reluctant fondness. "The squelching sound was basically the soundtrack of my suffering. Anyone within a mile could hear me coming. It was like—squelch, squish, splat—over and over again. Jess offered to record it, by the way, just to immortalize the moment for me."
Her mom burst into laughter at that. “Honestly, Madison, it’s kind of like one of those moments you’ll look back on and laugh about later in life. Maybe not now—since I can feel the existential crisis building—but one day for sure.”
Madison grumbled, “Sure, like when I turn fifty and I’m ready to laugh at my own pain.”
Her mom softened, tone more comforting now, but still playful. "Well, maybe next time you'll—what's the phrase?—dress for the occasion, instead of pulling a Vogue cover shoot on a farm trip.”
Madison let out a defeated laugh. "Have I learned my lesson? Maybe. But next time, that farm better be ready for me—I'll have to devise some... strategies," she said, eyes narrowing as she started planning her outfit for any possible future rural excursions.
Her mom teased: "How about rubber boots and old jeans, hun? You know, like a normal person. Leave the Keds at home.”
“Rubber boots?!” Madison gasped in mock horror. "Mom, I still need a little dignity!"
And with that, her mom burst into laughter again, the two of them sharing the ridiculousness of the whole ordeal.
“Okay, okay,” Madison said, finally exhaling the tension of the day, “maybe farm life and I just don’t mix. But I’ve learned one thing for sure: being fashionable is *pain used for learning... and I’m adding 'mud' to my list of enemies.”*
Her mom chuckled softly. “Well, at least I got a good story out of it. I’m definitely sharing this one with Aunt Cindy.”
Madison groaned. "Oh God, please don’t. She’ll bring it up every Thanksgiving for, like, the next decade."
“I’ll *try not to,”* her mom said unconvincingly. “But, hey, maybe next year I’ll get you some nice, sensible boots for Christmas.”
“Ha-ha, hilarious, Mom.” Madison replied, her tone dripping sarcasm, though she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. "Just promise you won’t ask about the Keds again. It's... too soon."
“I promise,” said her mom, still chuckling. "For now."