Here a bean, there a bean...

Seems like everyone (with wee ones at least) is sick this month. We made it through the winter pretty unscathed only to start playing musical germs for all of February. P and I have been inside since last week except for a trip to his dentist yesterday.

During this hibernation period, P cycles through his toys efficiently. Animals one day, trains the next, cars the next, kitchen and shop following that. Then it was bean bin day. The day at home loomed ahead. All of the familiar toy faces had Me wishing for a new toy, or a sneezeless trip into the city. I Rarely talk on the phone. Like, once a month. The price just isn't worth it. P is frustrated by my unavailability and creates complicated situations to extract my attention. But on this particular day it seemed worth it, the penance of mess for the prize of adult interaction. Once P was peacefully settled into his bean bin I called his Aunt B (Beth) and we caught up on each other's last month. Then Devilish glee filled the air. I popped my head into the playroom to see beans hitting the ceiling above a small child enamored with the mess, the sound, the gravity, the motion, the freedom of it all. He looked at me with that waiting face, the one that says, "Shit?" And all I could do was smile. That was all he needed to go on, flinging every last bean (all 25 bags of them), well, everywhere.

Turns out, it was just what we both needed. The monotony was broken as we poured beans on each other's heads and bounced them off of the wall. Our trucks were unusually fun to race with so many boulders to bounce over. Just running and kicking them (the mess was so bloody big, why not?) every which way was intoxicating.

The next morning was a bit like a hangover though. Beans are fantastically difficult to pick up. Too small to grab, too big to vacuum, too ornery on a carpet to sweep. I had occasionally wondered the previous day if he'd want to repeat this experiment very often, but I think the two hours of cleaning will probably work as a natural deterrent. Then again, he may forget by next February...