While down at Exploits, the outhouse was a focale subject of conversation. In fact, it was something of a meetingplace for some, as it’s a two-seater. Often one of the kids would bustle in on an adult (or invite the adult to join them) without any hestitation (on the kid’s part). This “togetherness” seemed to invite the sharing of “outhouse humour”, for which Shelley won the award (and made a deep impression on my daughter, as you will see later).

In one of her many excursions to remote places around the world, Shelley had occasion to visit a “snake reserve”, which is exactly what you think it is – a wildlife preserve focussing on snakes. They had a great time, saw all manner of venomous (and probably poisonous) reptiles and finished up with a picnic lunch in the public picnic area.

Shelley was the first to the outhouse and everyone in line behind her was exhorting her to hurry up; much liquid had been consumed. So Shelley did what needed doing and only vaguely noticed the rustling noise. Until she looked down and saw the monstrous rattler less than a meter beneath her bottom.

Apparently she set some sort of record for the half-naked outhouse exit that day and has been somewhat reluctant to use them ever since. She’s not much fond of snakes, either. The wardens came and captured the snake and put him back in his home in the rattlesnake display.

Katherine apparently heard snippets of this, unbenownced to us and processed them in her usual garbled fashion. She mixed them with an earlier household incident, involving the disposal of dead bugs in the toilet and me flushing before using it, as I was reluctant to urinate on dead earwigs. This caused gales of laughter from my husband, who enjoys precisely this sort of activity. So do many men, apparently. Go figure.

Three weeks after the vacation, our daughter popped out of her bedroom and inquired as to the location of her father. I indicated that he was in the washroom and would be out momentarily. Her response?

“Oh, yeah, ’cause Daddy, he pees on snakes!”

Ever since then, when she finds out that John is in the bathroom, she assumes that he’s aiming at reptiles (there are actually no wild snakes in Newfoundland) and launches into lengthy interrogations as to his methods and motivation.

I’m so glad she forgot about the bugs.