The Plunger

My husband brought home a new plunger yesterday. It's such a long story of how our old plunger finally bit the dust from being overused because of Big Brother. The problem is not too much toilet paper if that's what you're thinking. The problem is always too much or too big of why you need the toilet paper in the first place. We're still amazed that such a little bottom can produce such an amount.

So as I was playing with the boys in their room, my husband walked in with the new plunger and told Big Brother if it doesn't unclog his clogs, we're going to have to get him an outhouse. Then my husband put the plunger on his gut and pulled it off and actually said, "I bet that left a plunger hickey." He lifted his shirt and sure enough, he had a nice red round spot on his stomach. I was literally rolling on the floor, trying not to pee my pants because I was laughing so hard. He kept asking me what was wrong with me and I could hardly breathe. But I finally got it out, "I'm so writing about this on my blog!"