Three Apple Cores Down Under or The Great Toilet Adventure

Since the last blog post (Which, if you are paying attention was only TWO days ago. Yeah me.) several friends suggested I blog about apple cores and toilets. This may sound like a strange combination. It is.

But not for our house.

My ten-year-old loves apples. Not likes, or enjoys, or even is extremely fond of, but loves them. We can't keep enough of them in the house. He'll eat a ten pound bag in a day. We have to lock them up. Really.

The eating isn't the bad part. It's the disposing. You would think that any child who eats so many apples and is told so many times (at least ten a day) to throw his cores in the garbage, would have a thorough understanding of the concept. Not so. He has Fragile X Syndrome and certain things just don't stick. This is one of them. We find apple cores (and more things than you can imagine) scattered everywhere. Under beds. In drawers. Behind dressers. In closets.

And in toilets.

This wouldn't be so bad if he didn't flush them, but he gets some strange satisfaction out of seeing them swirl around and disappear down the hole. The only problem is everything, and I do mean everything, that follows doesn't go down the hole. Um yeah. Nasty.

We've become champion toilet removers. My hubby and I can empty, remove, de-clog, and replace a toilet in seven minutes flat. Most of the time. Not this time. It was bad. Soooo bad. Soooo clogged. Soooo foul. I hesitate to go on. I may be scarred for life.

We took the toilet off, turned it upside down, and stared at the mass of brown, reeking mess oozing from said hole. Someone needed to reach in and clean it out. You guessed it. Me. Up to my elbow.

I spent the next half hour scouring my arm. I don't know if an apple will EVER look appetizing again.