[Mrs. The King]

Today I think I need to introduce an important member of my family. Victims of my last trip report will remember this character's impact on the report and their lives. To Set the tone I need you to create a song for me in your head. Please imagine a talented singer belting out the moving song from the Lion King

"He lives in you
He lives in me
He watches over
Everything we see
Into the water
Into the truth
In your reflection
He lives in you

He lives in you
He lives in you
He lives in you
He lives in you"


Can you feel the love? let that song play in the background of your mind while I introduce my butt, The Jiggler. Yes, my butt has a name. I am going to recycle a story from my previous trip report about my Jiggler so any newbies can form their own relationship with it If you have read it before, go ahead and read it again. We can always learn more from the classics.


With much grumbling, and whining we WALK to the Big Ball. We meet my father and then both my parents help our family get in with their Main Gate passes. We hear the music, we smell the smells. Ahh. We love Epcot. First things first, the potty . The Jiggler has a little problem with some Disney potties. You see, I rarely potty alone. I have mastered the two and three person potty trip. Of course, we all cram into one stall . This potty trip it is just me and PS. PC prefers to go with Dad. PS and I make our way in. I back The Jiggler in [beep, beep, beep] and drag PS in behind me. I straddle the toilet and try to close the door. She is at a stage in her development where her head is just high enough to bang into the toilet tissue dispensers. I usually wind up cramming her head between the stall door and the dispenser, pinball style, a couple of times per trip. Big green eyes stare up at me in disbelief that she has to deal with a mom that has no concept of spatial relations. After we are safely locked in, we rotate the Jigger around to get the Jiggler protector (the toilet guard tissue).

Mrs. The King carefully plucks just one (wouldn’t want to be wasteful). Gently and daintily I lay the Jiggler protector down. The toilet is competitive, just like the spider and the babies. The toilet feels I should not be a wimp and I should just lay the bare Jiggler down. “Toughen up” the toilet thinks and then it sucks my Jiggler protector down with enough force to render me nude if I were standing closer. PS screams and holds her ears. “The flush is too loud” she wails. In a frenzy to find safe harbor, she winds up bouncing between the Jiggler and the stall door . Well, I will try this again. Because I like to win. I want to beat the potty at its own game. I lay the protector down, nicey nice, the middle falls in, sets off the super sensitive sensor and… sonic boom flush. PS is now a little leery of sitting on this insatiable monster that eats the Jiggler protectors so ferociously. What will it do with her teeny, tiny hiney? I am totally unaware of my daughter’s concerns. It is me verses the potty. I break out the ultimate weapon.

The bare Jiggler. If I can move fast enough, I can hold that protector in place. I will anchor it down and show that potty who is boss. The potty has had a lot of practice. I move as quick as lightening. Place the protector, swing the Jiggler around, knock into PS who bounces into the toilet tissue dispenser… again. I am almost there; the bare Jiggler will be safe from all the germs of the 100 gazillion women that have done their business before me. I hear a high pitched whine I am not fast enough. My plan will not work. The potty sucks down its favorite treat, for a third time. The Jiggler is not a fast enough anchor…To add insult to my bruised ego and germs to the germs I now get to wear, like a nasty accessory all day long, I get the the “finishing touch”. The splash of ice cold potty water . “Aggh!” I let out a little scream. Big green eyes are watching this whole show. Hands covering ears.

In her sweet little head, that potty just took a bite of the Jiggler and Mommy was getting sucked down next. She waits. Now, it is her turn. She bangs her head one more time against the t.p. dispenser in a futile effort to render herself unconscious and avoid being sucked down by the Jiggler protector eating, sonic booming, auto flushing potty. She is unsuccessful and she is up next. I did what all good moms do. I bribed her. With toys , treats and ponies . (Don’t tell Mr. The King about that last one)

Well, the potty stop is over. Me and all my new germs start to look for Mr. The King. He is so fun to find. On his back he wears enough audiovisual equipment that he can actually broadcast live to news stations if they need him. There is even a satellite dish strapped to his hat. But his cell phone is set to silent and vibrate. He never feels it in his pocket. Finally, we make contact, he smiles at me, happy to be in his favorite place with his family and blissfully unaware that some day… he will own a pony .


Ahh good times. Next up is a quick little ditty about my sister. We will return to regularly scheduled programing very soon. Isn't it pathetic that even a trip report has reruns at this time of year

Maybe it only happens in my house. Mr. The King kindly bought me the minivan of my dreams. He drives our crap vehicle. The one that you need two feet to drive, even though it is not standard shift. And the windows only work some of the time. I appreciate his sacrifice for my princess like comfort. But apparently, an inspection goes on that I don't know about. As he comes in the house he "notices" our van. He is checking for damage. Every day.


The other day he walks in to the kitchen where I am happily dancing the jiggler around. Big smiles.

He says "There is a ding in the van"

No response from me, still smiling, less dancy, trying to pretend like I am listening.

He tries again "There is a ding in the front hood"

Me ~"Maybe is is from the storm the other night? A tree branch or something"

Him ~"No"

How the hell does he know it wasn't a tree branch? Coulda been. What is he Columbo of the dings?

Him~ "Looks like a rock"

Here he throws in a pregnant pause. Full of accusation.

Me~"Huh, you think the storm kicked up a rock?"

Silence from Mr. The King. Then, the grilling stare. Like I am in an interview room down in the precinct. He adds the always pleasant eyebrow arch.

Isn't that sumthin? Does he think that I would not notice a rock banging on the hood of the van while driving it?

Need I mention that he has been driving the van both times we had damage to my princess mobile? Blew out the back window backing into a ladder and was at the helm when a actual rock hit the actual van and exploded out the back window?

No, I won't mention that.

Granted, the woman in my family have a crappy car history. Locking keys in running vehicles. Arriving to a lunch date in two cars leaving in one and forgetting about the second car. Until the next day.

But my sister has the worst stories of all. I was a passenger for one particular story. She was driving her spiffy Ford Feastiva. In the middle of the road, there was about a three foot high pile of manure that must have fallen off a farm truck, hay sticking out of it. Sis is doing about 55 miles per hour, headed straight for it.

Me (all calm) ~ "What ya gonna do about that pile?"

her (all calm) ~"I am going to put it between the tires"

Holy Crapamoly! Ever see a Feastiva? I have worn Maxi pads bigger than that car. I was sure we were about to launch Duke's of Hazards style over this giant pile of ****. I had to watch though. Couldn't believe my eyes. Like seeing a snake try and eat an elephant.

Boom, we hit. God Bless that little car, it didn't go airborne. But the grinding noise of the grill eating that mound was alarming. Thudding and smooshing over it, my sister refused to let up on the gas. It was fun seeing my Dad's face when we pulled in the driveway. Her car always smelled like poop after that.


Needless to say it wasn't me. The ding. I blame him.



What did I say was up next last time? Retirement Jail, G-pa's 90th, More food poisoning ala chicken and more biting bugs? and of course "Princess Down, I repeat, we have a Princess down!"

Chapter 2ish Dead Animal Show