Greased Pig Contest

When I was seventeen our church organized a teen event for all of us in the area. A couple hundred of us trekked out of Las Vegas to a nearby ranch for a day and night of fun. The most memorable activity was the greased pig contest.


There was a fenced in area, and greased pink pigs–squealing and running around like crazy. There were a bunch of teenagers dressed in jumpsuits, sprinting and attempting to tackle the swine. The point of the game was to capture the greased pig in your arms. Looking back it seems like such a horrible form of animal cruelty, but the teenage brain is not exactly fully developed, and at the time it was incredible fun.

Fast forward ten years, and my little family has just moved to Utah.  The climate is much more dry than Southern California. The children’s skin is suffering, and breaking out in horrible dry rashes. An addition to our daily routine has been added, and looks like this;

A fenced in arena – Luke’s room with the door shut.

Two pink naked boys --fresh from the tubby, squealing, giggling and running around in circles trying to escape me.

A determined mother, with lotion covering her hands sprinting and tackling the boys to lather them up from head to toe.

Every time we enter the room and close the door to begin the chase I am taken straight back to that greased pig contest.

During the original competition there was this kid named Leo. He made a jump for the pig, threw his arms around the pig’s waist and grabbed tight. That poor kid got pooped on.

Let’s just say one of the other side effects of moving to Utah was a couple weeks of the flu, and yes, during one of our chases this poor mom made a jump, a grab, and got pooped on. I wish I was wearing a jumpsuit.