Little engineers, yogurt catastrophes, ghosts and private investigators

Donor 1909 is an engineer.

I was a liberal arts major.  I have no understanding of anything mechanical.  I suck at science and barely passed astrology, and biology is so foreign to me that I had to go to a reproductive endocrinologist to get pregnant.  My sense of direction is so bad that I cannot find my way out of a paper bag, and I am always the idiot beating the stick in the air when the piñata is 10 feet behind me.

So imagine my surprise when Jax and Moose, who are undeniably Bean in appearance, began to exhibit left brain tendencies. 

Jax’s sense of direction is so great that before he could talk, he could point you to Mimi’s house. 

Moose’s problem solving is uncanny.  Last week, Aunt Belle left Papa alone with Moose.  Papa wasn’t paying attention and walked into the kitchen to discover Moose covered in yogurt.  

Papa looked at the yogurt-covered little Bean.  Then he looked at the locked refrigerator.  And then he deduced that Aunt Belle had left the strawberry Stonyfield out on the counter.  Steam was coming out of his ears as he commenced cleaning and cussing.

“What the hell has this world come to?…  Can’t put the damn yogurt in the damn refrigerator….  What the hell….  If you want something done right, you’ve gotta do it right yourself, for crying out loud…. Wild ass little blanket toter.”

Still muttering and smoldering, Papa unlocked the refrigerator, replaced the yogurt and relocked the refrigerator and went back to not paying attention.  (Do you see a trend here?) 

Half an hour later Papa walked back in the kitchen and discovered Moose covered in yogurt again.  He looked at the refrigerator.  It was locked.  He looked at Moose.  Moose grinned.  Unless the ghost of Emma Louise intervened, Moose had unlocked the refrigerator, removed the yogurt and relocked the refrigerator.

Recently, Jax has started asking questions about things.  Questions I can’t answer.  Questions Mimi can’t answer.  And questions Papa can’t answer.  The 4-year-old, who understood at the age of 2 that a toy no longer worked because it needed new batteries, has been asking about things like water drainage, carbon emissions, electricity. 

“I’m just going to have doing some research on HowStuffWorks.com,” I said to Papa.

“You leave it to me,” Papa said.

“What do you know about electricity?”

“I know you’re not supposed to touch that shit.”

“I have a better idea,” I said.  “We need to hire a private investigator to find 1909.”

“Say what?”

“I didn’t pay for this linear thinking bullshit.  This guy needs to step up to the plate and help out.”

But private investigators cost money, and I’ve been bereft of funds since…. Well, since always. 

To pay for the PI, I’ve gotten Moose a job as a product tester with Safety Baby, the company that made the refrigerator lock that Moose busted through.  If something has the Moose Seal of Approval, you know that it’s indestructible. 

Addenda

*Moose got fired.  Seems he went through the entire product line without giving the seal, and management decided that Moose proofing simply was not possible.

*I just talked to Portia.  She reminded me that it was astronomy that I took in college.  Astronomy.  Astrology.  Whatever. 

*Emma Louise is the old lady who used to live in Maison Bean.  She died.  Not in Maison Bean—that would be creepy.  She died in an old folks’ home.  But she lived in Maison Bean for like 100 years—long enough to haunt it.  She didn’t have any family, so we’ve kind of adopted her spirit.  Sometimes we talk to her.

*Lest there be any do-gooders out there championing donor rights, let me be clear:  I was just kidding about the private investigator.

*Because Papa’s comments are entirely too long, his comment this week will actually show up as a guest post Friday.  So don’t forget to tune in. . . Irene, Pamela.