Fogwaughism or How To Lie Your Way Through Life

After #1 Son realized at the ripe old age of four, that Father had a propensity for telling "Whoppers" and only resorted to the Truth as a Last Resort, we enter an age of constant verbal sparring in the house.

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!!!