A Hill of Beans

Girl Friday, ‘Master’ Credentials

“I don’t like beans, Mom!” My son and daughter swore they did not like beans of any kind as kids. Green beans, navy beans, pinto beans…none. I always reasoned, “how can you know whether you like a food until you try it?”

The determination is made by tasting, then stating. Resolved to have a taste test, I made a pot of pinto “soup” beans. With sprite in one hand and a spoon in the other—ever so carefully—the kids put one pinto bean in their mouth.

Chewing and swallowing with unpleasant faces, gulping a drink lickety-split. “I don’t like beans!” Well then! Now we know…Megan and Caleb do not like beans. There are types of beans I do not like…

We bicker over trivial issues that amount to a mere hill of beans. Anxious thoughts about problems we discover were not worth a hill of beans. Beans—equating to virtually nothing in the grand scheme of life.

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