How do you pick the perfect holiday gift for the long-married, rapidly-aging parents who seemingly have everything? Well, if you're the youngest son and his lovely girlfriend, you tie a red ribbon round the Tushy Spa, aka Bum Wash, aka Booty Cleaner, and await the ensuing hilarity. For reasons only Siggy Freud could explain, as a family, we find bathroom issues really funny. I'm not sure where I went wrong in the parenting department, although I have a few ideas, but ultimately, I blame hubby for playing the classic "Pull My Finger" medley during the car ride to school. In any event, we laughed and expressed glee and said, "What an inspired gift! You know us so well! Thank you!" Personally, I couldn't wait to use it. Fast forward to Sunday morning. After various installation attempts, Howie, my resident plumber decided, a las, that the Tushy Spa wasn't compatible with our pipes. I had to break the news gently to Scotty. "Honey, I'm so sorry, it's not going to work out with our plumbing." "Sh*t." "Don't be upset. We're re-gifting it to you and Meg." "We accept."
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