A string bean and a glass of water

Dear readers I have neglected you because it is summer and I am trying to spend a little more time out of my head. Writing is headwork even though it involves the heart and a tiny bit of finger exercise.

In the spirit of summer I have helped with two moves and spent, in the process, a few precious hours with the granddaughter. Speaking of headwork: it is amazing to see a baby’s brain in gear. At 12 months she has an intense interest in the world. It may be the bathtub drain plug with its lovely, dangling chain. It may be the sandwich I am trying to eat. Or it may be a string bean and a glass of water.

I sat on the couch at the just-moved-into house to snap a bag of fresh, organic beans from the Amish farm. I’d brought the abundance of our weekly CSA haul to share with the Ann Arbor family. I brought the vegetables scrubbed and ready and, while I was at it, I thought I might as well cook some. What is a visit from Mom worth unless you end up with some food in the fridge all ready to eat?

Hazel sidled over to investigate the bean activity, walking with the assistance of boxes, walls, furniture. She stuck her nose into the bag and took a bean. She twirled it in her fist, tapped it on the couch. It did not make much noise. She stuck it in her mouth, not in the anything-goes-in-the-mouth fashion of the infant but in the spirit of "let’s check this out for edibility." She found it not disagreeable but not exactly edible—she has only two teeth. She tried putting the bean in her mouth in different ways—stem end, tail end, and crosswise with both ends sticking out like a mustache. The latter seemed to work well. She could gum it and not gag and it made Grandpa and Grandma laugh. We were too tired to hunt down the camera or the Mustachioed Bean Bandit would be on record.

Next, bean in hand, Hazel expressed interest in Vic’s glass of water. He lowered it for her. She stuck the bean in the water. It made satisfying splashes, plunk, plunk. She stuck her bean-free hand in the water. Also satisfying. She especially enjoyed the way the water came out on her hand and dripped on the couch. She did this for a bit, watering the couch, one handful at a time, clasping and pointing her fingers downward to get the best drip effect.

Then the bean went back in the water. This reminded her of something. A straw, perhaps? Somehow this might help her drink the water. It didn’t. But she left the bean in the water and grabbed the glass with both hands (it was still moderately under Vic’s control) and raised it to take a drink. This worked better than she expected and much of the water ended up on her dress. She insisted on trying again and again, finding the right tilt, learning to regulate the flow. The bean stayed in the water. It was in the way but it belonged there.

Who could have guessed the entertainment value of a string bean and a glass of water? For the grandparents as much as the baby.