So in 1995 and 1996, we took photgraphs in a random corner of our apartment with a 2 foot tall ceramic pig from Service Merchandise. Now there is proof. But I'm trying to recall how the conversation must have gone "Hey, take my picture with the pig! It will make me look good!" "And lets use the timer on the camera so that piggy can be in our picture, too! Won't that be great?" Thankfully my husband's mother taught him well how to stand there patiently and smile before I even got to him.
In the last 12 years, I can't count the number of times my husband has begged me to throw it away. I know that each time we move, he looks at me with that look, like, "seriously? we're paying someone to move that thing?" And I say, "oh, no, we're not paying someone, I'm moving it myself. It's too precious to let anyone else move that thing."
So the littlest one somehow figured out how much I loved that stupid pig. After he learned to walk and he got old enough to get in trouble he would stomp over to a random corner of our house and use all his body weight to knock piggy down because he was furious with me. This is how he lost his ears. I think the dog has been licking the lead paint off his body over the last ten years, losing precious brain cells each time. His chalkboard met it's match with the first toddler. The loving, cute messages were long gone before that (Hi sarge! Still love you, I just don't write it in chalk anymore!)
I haven't thought to take pictures with piggy for quite some time. Maybe, though, just maybe, I've figured out what our next family Christmas picture might be. I'll be sure to dress him in his scarf and hat.