Don’t Do This: The Musical Fruit

Ellis loves green beans. She also loves black beans. And alright, I give them to her. I figure, they are healthy and I also enjoy eating them: win and win.

Last week, I went to Sam’s and bought so many green beans that even the Jolly Green Giant was giving me the side-eye. I also picked up some black beans and some tortillas, because it’s the lunch of champions. For the first half of last week, Ellis and I were really happy. For lunch, we’d both split some beans and a few pieces of fruit, high-five and call it a meal.

And things were going fine until Wednesday, when Ellis started getting really fussy. And I dropped her off at Jeanne’s house (our babysitter, not just some random stranger, although Ellis has had some of those days) and said, “Wow, she’s so cranky today, good luck!” Then, I bolted. Because I’m a good mom. On Thursday, Ellis woke up at 5am and the whole day was one long, drawn out whine. My ears were bleeding. Strangers walking by were calling their doctor’s to renew their birth control medication. I wondered, is she finally teething?

When I picked her up from Jeanne’s on Thursday, Jeanne handed Ellis to me and told me about her day. First it was how she played the piano and laughed at the dog and then there was the bowel movement update, which is without a doubt my favorite part of the day. (All future watchers of children take note, mom’s eat this kind of crap up. We love to know how many times our kids laughed at dogs and precisely what their poop looked like.) Then, Jeanne casually remarked, “I changed her diaper and it was all beans. She must be hitting the beans pretty heavy, no wonder she’s fussy.” And Jeanne said this in the sweetest most non-judgmental way possible. It was more a statement of admiration than one of censure.

And then it hit me…OH RIGHT! They are the musical fruit afterall. I tried to play cool, like I of course I knew that the 10lbs OF BEANS I had given my daughter since Monday was giving her more gas than it takes to fill a Hummer. I took her home, gave her some gas drops and we’ve quit beans for a while. Now, when Ellis is being fussy, I just know she’s being mean.

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