Today Mom cooked a humungous pot of herbal black bean soup. At dinner time, she served me a large bowl of it - so much you could feed a family.
Anyway, since it was really nice and not wanting to hurt Mom’s feelings, I gulped it all down. I thought I was drowning in herbal black bean soup inside. Suddenly I felt two eyes on me. I looked up to see Dad staring at me and the big bowl.
“What?” I said, putting down the bowl and went to lie down on the sofa just in case my stomach burst with pressure sitting upright.
“You’re not going to eat the beans?” asked Dad.
“I can’t. I’m too full. I feel bloated.”
“Are you sure?”
“You can have them if you want.”
“They’re good for your health.”
“I don’t want.”
“Gives you soft, smooth skin.”
“Never mind.”
“Nice complexion.”
“No.”
“No more blackheads, whiteheads, spots on your face”
*Shake head vigorously*
“Tsk tsk tsk. I’ll take it then. You don’t know how to appreciate good stuff.” Dad concluded while getting up from his armchair and reached out for the big bowl of black beans dry of its soup.
And left me thinking… Since when black beans have such magical advantages? Dad sure has his way to get me to do something I don’t want to. Hee… smart, but oops, he failed again :p