My Husby and I were leaving for ‘town’.
Living where we were at the time, on a farm between Fort Macleod and Lethbridge, said trip, or others like it, were a highlight.
We buckled our baby in.
I climbed into my seat.
Grant started the vehicle and began backing up.
Suddenly, he stopped.
And shut off the truck.
I looked at him. “What are you doing?”
“Just realized that I forgot to water the pigs! I’ll be right back.”
He jumped out of the car and ran to the pig pen.
Now, I should mention, here, that the pig pen was just out of sight of where my baby and I sat in the truck.
Finally, impatient, I climbed from the truck and walked over.
But as I came around the corner of the building, I saw my husband, back to me and facing away from the pig pen.
I won’t say exactly what he was doing, but it definitely had something to do with water.
I stood there for a moment.
Finally, “Just what are you watering those pigs with?”
He jumped. “Ummm . . .”
But a new term had just been created.
From then on, in the Tolley family, if someone had to . . . relieve themselves, instead of the generic, ‘have to see a man about a horse’, or the more boring, ‘where’s the restroom?’, we used the newly created, ‘gotta water the pigs’.
And yes. Our family is weird.