Green Beans are good for you, M+Ms are good for me
I realize that the following admission might call into question my rightful ownership of the domain Greener Biener (it IS pronounced bean-er,) as indeed it is true that no green beans were consumed by me in the making of this site. Green M+Ms? For sure. Green Beans? No thank you.
I was not a kid who fluttered with thoughts of a perfect wedding, nor did I trace the names of my future children onto my notebooks. The stuff of my dreams was heftier: One day I would be the boss of my vegetable domain. I would choose which healthy stuff to eat and which to show the door. It would be glorious.
When I grew up I would not eat green beans. No one could make me. So there.
In those early dreams of a bean-free future, I didn’t figure on joining a CSA as a ploy to convince myself to sample otherwise ignored vegetables. Nor did I factor in the possibility that I’d be surrounded by a bunch of green bean-eating traitors.
Yesterday I had a day. The kind of day that should only be concluded with a dinner of red wine and M+Ms. But it was not to be. For there was a family to feed and daughters for whom an example must be set. Apparently there was also a husband who thought it’d be cute to add green beans to an otherwise innocuous spinach salad.
I kid you not. He added green beans to my salad.
Normally he’s a decent guy. A really good guy who pitches in and spends time with the kids and helps with dinner and all that jazz. He’s even agreed to dress as a cowboy for Halloween, so you know he’s got my best interest at heart. Of course I was blindsided by his staggeringly despicable bean transgression.
I did what any whiny toddler self-possessed woman would do. I wrinkled my nose and plucked the offensive things from my plate. Oh, I was sly. The children would never know that mommy gets dessert without finishing her veggies.
“WHO’S BEANS ARE THESE?” Dave bellowed, in a blatant attempt to rat me out. I glowered at him, expressing with one evil eye how I felt about his egregious choice of broadcasting my action around the kitchen.
The kids remained oblivious. Kira shrugged and munched contentedly. Acadia dipped a bean in ranch dressing. I played like I had already devoured my share.
But now they’ve got me rethinking this whole anti-bean campaign. After all, the girls really seem to enjoy the snappy green things. And they are loaded with all that good stuff that makes for heart-healthy, bone-strong little bodies.
Ahh, what the heck? Let them eat beans.
But please, oh please, leave me to my M+Ms.