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!!!
