We went to Costco today, the bots and I. By 11:50, it was ninety-two degrees, and we were heading home to lunch. Mbot, who’d been angling for the cashews resting on the floor beneath his feet, asked what was we’d be eating. Maybe edamame, I said, because a family-sized box of frozen soybeans in the shell was staring at me from the passenger seat.
We buy edamame whenever I remember to. I love it but then forget about it. Before the age of two, Gbot was adept at popping the little soybeans directly from the pod into his mouth. He loves it, but then forgets about it. Mbot can take it or leave it. Or play with it.
“What’s edamame?” he asked, and I was surprised, because his memory is like the Hotel California: what checks in never leaves.
“It’s those…” I paused because I was trying to change lanes and at the same time think of a better word than “things” and a more accurate word than “peas” without using the word “beans.” Mbot took care of my dilemma.
“Those things you put in your nose and then blow out and then put in your mouth!” he cried.
“Yes, Mbot,” I said. “That’s right.”
What does “edamame” mean to you?