Sometime around Thanksgiving, somebody served peas at a family gathering. Now Niece had a false tooth, the result of a nasty bicycle accident in her youth. #1 Son announced, "I don't like Peas" upon which Niece popped out her false tooth and proclaimed "I don't blame you. Peas rotted out my teeth."
#1 Son's eyes widened and I'm sure he resolved to never eat Peas again as long as the Grass Grows and The Buffalo Crap on the Prairie.
A few weeks later, well into the Christmas Season, Father had had it with the Pea Refusal Brigade composed entirely of #1 Son. "Eat your damn peas or I'll tell Santa on you" Father smirked.
"Oh Yeah!! You don't even KNOW HIM!" #1 Son scoffed.
Whereupon Father went to the telephone (pre-cell age here guys, we still had that thing known as a Land-line) and dialed up the kid's grandpa. #1 Son's eyes were bugging out!!
"Hey Santa, I got a kid here who won't eat his peas." I guess the Psuedo-Santa must have requested to talk to the defiant tyke as Father handed the phone over to #1 Son, who uttered a string of UH-HUH, UH-HUH, Uh-Huh, hung up the phone and without saying a ne'er do well to his waiting parents, ate every damn last pea on his plate.
Oh Crap, the kid's grandpa was a Whopper-Teller TOO!!!
Oh how I LOVE Fogwaugh!!! Gave me a good chuckle for my day. Thanks!
ReplyDeleteBlessings!
CottonLady
Me too. Grampa to the rescue!
ReplyDeleteI don't see anything wrong at all. Sounds normal to me! My dad went even better than Grandpa did here. Santa actually used to show up and spy on me occasionally!
ReplyDeleteoh great stories! :)
ReplyDelete