The upstairs toilet the children use is plugged. There is a huge wad of paper settled in the bottom of the bowl. I pushed down the handle and used the plunger to dislodge the wad of paper as the water poured in and almost crested over the bowl. The mess flushed. But wait, what is that stuck to the plunger. A thick piece of paper? A piece of paper towel?
And then I am four again. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom watching the plumber dismantle our solitary mint green toilet. He took a metal plumbers snake and pushed it into the bowels of the floor. My parents stood beside him staring at the toilet. No one breathed as we waited to see what would come up from the depths as he slowly turned the handle. At the end of the snake was a large red Macintosh apple with one bite out of it. We all stared at the apple, and then my mother and my father and the plumber stared at me.
I don’t remember why I put my apple in the toilet. I don’t even remember flushing it down.
I used a plastic bag over my hand to pick the paper towel out of the toilet and toss it in the garbage can. Then I ran down the stairs, and yelled to the kids, ” Hey guys, guess what I tried to flush down the toilet when I was little!”