Lord of the plunger

The reasons children are infatuated with an overflowing toilet are beyond many people, but when you become an expert plunger, sometimes you just have to play along.

Why are children so fascinated with a plugged up toilet? When the commode gets blocked at my house, the kids act as if they're starring at a winning lottery ticket.

Child One: "I can't believe it—it's finally happened again! The toilet is plugged!"

Child Two: "Pinch me—I'm dreaming!"

It's shortly after this discovery that the giggling starts. What, at first, are two children pointing and laughing at a swirling pot soon turns into crazed kids screaming with joy as the water starts spilling over the rim. You'd think they were tourists at Niagara Falls.

"Hurry, grab the camera!" It's like they've been waiting their entire year to see an actual toilet overflow. "This is just how I pictured it. Uh oh; run!" They also can't wait to share the news—only they can barely get the words out of their mouths. "Dad, the toilet … I … can't ... breathe," they cackle while holding their stomachs and falling into hysterics on the floor.

"What's going on?" I ask the other child, whose face is beet red and struggling to get any audible word out of her mouth. "T-t-t-t ..." She joins her brother chortling on the floor.

I get to the bottom of things however, when I finally hear my wife moan from upstairs. "Ken! The toilet is overflowing!" To which I shout back, "Well that certainly explains why the children are slobbering all over themselves."

As I stand up, the kids excitedly spring to their feet. "Are you going to get the plunger, Dad?" I blink. "No—I thought I'd go grab my surf board and catch a wave down the stairs. Of course I'm going to go get the plunger!" Then, as if the whole neighborhood needs to be in on the action, the children scream, "He's going to get the plunger!" A plunger is a big deal to kids. It's mysterious. It's hilarious. It's gross.

A few minutes later, I walk into the house with the infamous tool slung over my shoulder. I pass by the children who are lined up in the hallway and pointing with excitement as if I'm a Macy Day Parade float.

Katie Couric: "Matt, here comes the Ken Swarner float. Nice plunger this year."

Matt Lauer (giggling uncontrollably): "Go to commercial, Katie! Coffee is coming out of my nose!"

When I finally reach the bathroom in question, the children stand in the hallway uttering things like "sick" and "disgusting" and "eeeew." This is part of their overall celebration. I give them a sideways glance. "Dad, how can you do that? Aren't you grossed out?" they inquire.

"Not at all," I sarcastically reply. "This is why I became a dad. I wish this happened more often."

Then, as I wash the plunger off in the sink, I hear one of them whisper, "I don't think I'll ever brush my teeth in here again."

Finally, I give my usual lecture about using less toilet paper, and then I return the plunger back to the garage. Later that evening, I overheard my son saying his prayers. "God, thanks for making our toilet overflow today. That was great. Would it be a sin if I were to use my stuffed dinosaur to plug it up next week?"

I'd better say my own prayers.