Poops--he did it again...

Jason, I love you. Please don't hate me for telling this.

Last night my darling husband retreated into the bedroom to watch baseball and fall asleep. Before getting into bed, though, he follows a night-time routine of a good poop while catching up on sports scores. Many people do this with the help of a newspaper, but not my husband. Not while he's got his cell phone right in his pocket.

Jason's got a bit of a lactose-intolerance and I had heated up a Stouffer's dinner that Will loves and Jason doesn't mind. Unfortunately, last night, his stomach minded.

Greatly.

So Jason "finished up" and placed his cell phone in the crotch of his pants which were around his ankles. After wiping properly, he stood and pulled his pants up.

Forgetting one critical item.

He heard a secondary sploosh that shouldn't have been there. He turned around.

There it was. His cell phone. His beloved 'Chocolate' swimming in a sea of what at this point can only be considered Hershey's.

I'm going to end the story here. It doesn't, but I'm going to end it here.

Just in the future, don't ever ask to borrow Jason's phone. Seriously. EVER.