Potty Whore

“Come on! Give it to me, Baby!”

“Come to Pappa!”

“Give it up, little lassie!”

The shocking words were emanating from the bathroom. Earlier, a toy had become lodged in the commode, resulting in a bit of a ….situation. Hubs was the first to go in equipped with a plunger, snake and a bucket. The rest of us could only listen to the resulting rodeo.

“Gosh dab durn it!”

“…Give it to me, Wild Pony!!”

“Take that, Potty Whore.”

Curious, I snuck a peek. He was hunched over, firmly tugging on a plunger, boot atop the pot, giving it his all. The tug of war was brutal. The pot seemed to have the home team advantage. It firmly stood its ground, calm and confidently poised in the middle of the powder room.

The sweat poured as his red face contorted with anger and creative utterances filled the air.

“Gonna buy Pappa a new pair of shoes!”

My husband was clearly the underdog, twisting and writhing around as he put all he had into the fight. Grateful my hunky hero had come to my rescue and happy to be on the sidelines, I nonetheless felt a bit helpless. I stood aside as the battle ensued allowing my worry to get the better of me.

“You want a piece of me??!” he hollered.

Clearly, this was what the potty wanted. A piece of him. She was holding her ground, not about to give an inch.

Finally, hubs stood, wiping the sweat from his brow. Turning to me he said, “Gotta let it sit awhile. Let her stew in it a bit.”

He retreated, boots stomping loudly. And I was left with a wet floor, a befelled plunger and a rather smug looking toilet.

The battle may have been lost, my potty friend. But, we will win the war.

Indeed.

I think it’s time a woman takes the wheel. Step aside.

*Author’s Note….Much apologies for using the crude “w” word. But, as you know, we only report the truth here on Mamma Talk. No editing, just a brutal dose of reality….Now pardon me, I’ve got some laundry fairies that need some wrangling….