I have an announcement to make that should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me- I hate green beans. Loathe them. If I come over to your house for a dinner party, please know I will put green beans on my plate, but will shove them around in an effort to look like I ate some of what you probably assume to be the best vegetable on the planet. I’m not proud of my bean-hating ways, but I feel like one particular incident cemented my distaste for them when I was at the young age of five.
On a balmy Sunday afternoon, we were invited to dine at a friend of the family’s home, who had air conditioning (yay!) and toys for their grandchildren which we promptly commandeered as our own for the day. Since it was so delightful outside, we were told that dinner would be served on the patio under the guise of enjoying the fresh air, although I think the real reason for al fresco dining was that having six additional messy eaters inside would have called for heavy-duty clean up that nary a Merry Maid could have handled. As I ran from the basement to the kitchen to load up my plate full of deviled eggs, potato salad, chicken, and corn, I saw them- the abominable beans. Unfortunately for me, since Syl knew I hated them she made sure I took a heaping portion and gave me the Stink Eye which meant “if you don’t eat every single one of these, we’ll be having a chat (precursor to the Board of Education, see below)”.
As I morosely made my way to the children’s table on the patio, I began to look around for the family dog to try and tempt it into eating the green beans, but he was having none of it. Then, inspiration struck! I would take several green beans at a time in my hand, pretend to drop my napkin, and would stick the beans through the cracks of the patio to avoid the gagging reflex that would most assuredly come if I actually tried eating them. The plan worked- not only was I happy to clean my plate (much to the suspicious eye of Syl), I felt almost smug at my cleverness.
Dinner was over, and I was happily playing downstairs with my new toys for the day, when Syl came stomping down the stairs. She took one look at me and said “Come with me. NOW.” I followed her with trembling knees to the bathroom where she pointed to the wastebasket beside the toilet and gave me the ultimate Stink Eye. As I peered inside, I gasped at what I saw- a napkin BULGING with green beans. Now as an adult, I could have clearly defended myself in stating that there was no way that any amount of patio green beans could have made its way into the wastebasket in the downstairs bathroom, but my obvious guilt was already written on my face. Five year old me just assumed that Syl was right when she said God told her when we did something wrong, and He planted the green beans in the bathroom because He knew she would never find them under the patio. Sneaky bugger.
My butt stung for days. It wasn’t until we were in our teenage years that Joy finally admitted her similar distaste for green beans, and that she had been the one to shove her guilty load of sin into the wastebasket. Apparently when Syl came stomping down the stairs she thought she was done for, but when Syl grabbed me instead her, self-preservation kicked in and let me take the fall. However, even though it happened ever so many years ago I demand retribution.
Lesson of the day: if you’re smart enough to devise a plan, be smart enough to realize you got away with it. Most importantly, eat your veggies!
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