Shattered childhood memories

"This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none. And this little piggy went 'wee wee wee' all the way home." Remember that nursery rhyme? I certainly do. It's one of my youthful favorites. But recently, that happy childhood memory was blasted apart into a million little pieces. See, I always thought that the little piggy who went to market was going to market to do some shopping. You know, maybe he'd put on his best seersucker overalls and, holding hands (hooves?) with his mom and dad, would trot off to the market to buy fresh fruit and veg. Maybe some handmade soap. It seriously never occurred to me that the piggy would be going to the market to become someone else's shopping. What kind of messed up nursery rhyme is that?!? Of course, when I discussed all of this with John, he shook his head in bewilderment at how different our childhoods were. Apparently he has memories of actually taking the pigs to the market to be sold. Minus seersucker overalls and quaint, happy piggy shopping. Clearly John was raised by much more cynical people.