Wherefore Art Thou Space Monkey Bean?

Early last week, in the 9-year old boy equivalent of a feigned yawning stretch of an arm around an "unsuspecting" date, my son, Avery,  dropped a pre-birthday hint: "Uh, yeah, a lot of the boys in third grade, well, they're trading these things called Might Beanz. I dunno why, but they're really popular right now. Everybody has 'em. Uh. yeah."

So, you want Might Beanz for your 9th birthday do ya. Got it.

Now, for the uninitiated, Mighty Beanz are the 21st century equivalent of Weebles, except they're perfectly symmetrical.

Whereas Weebles (above, top) resembled highly medicated smiling baby-people-eggs in colored underpants and merely wobbled, Mighty Beanz (above, bottom) reflect all that is rough, tough, hip and relevant, and are meant to spill over and tumble, preferably in epic clashes atop cloths or paper towels stretched taught between your hands.

Enlightened as to the import of the Might Beanz, my wife embarked on recon mission to acquire small packages of these coveted characters for each boy attending last Friday's birthday celebration. By 4:30, each boy had a party bag replete with a 3-pack, waiting for them.

With the main event bowling out of the way, we returned home for backyard play, gifts and cake, and a campfire.

Safely through the "Insurance claims pending" phase of trampoline, whiffle ball, and ladder golf - nothing says party quite like events involving projectiles, human or otherwise - we moved thing inside for cake and gifts.

A shower of money and gift cards fell upon my now nine year-old Avery before he became owner of, yep, an assortment of Mighty Beanz and a carrying case.

What happened next has only been witnessed on late night Animal Planet or Discover Channel episodes. You know, the ones that open with the disclaimer, "Some content might not be suitable for younger viewers."

The room erupted with clamoring hands and shrill cries of "Let ME see 'em."

"Nevermind the cake," they seemed to say, "let us at those Beanz!"

So we did what any sane party host would do. We passed out the party bags.

Attention diverted from the collection my son just received, each boy focused on the 3-pack that would be their own. And then it happened, what every birthday host fears but fails to plan for - things went awry.

At one end of the table sat ardent Mighty Bean collector, Peter. Opposite him, standing, was Josh, a Beanz-head in own right, the type who scours metro area target stores and e-bay for that one particular Mighty Bean character, Space Monkey Bean.

I don't need to tell you who opened their package to find the afroementioned Space Monkey, and which boy was left slack-jawed, dumbfounded that the object of his affection had been here, in our house, within his reach, undetected, for 90 minutes (an eternity to a 9-year old boy).

What followed was nothing short of a psychology/sociology 101 experiment. There was baiting, taunting, negotiating, resentment, and even a "nanner-nanner foo foo," and an alleged punch in the face.

   Are you familiar with Lord of the Flies? Well, we didn't have quite get Piggy with it, but let's just say that nothing kills the birthday party mojo quite like one kid getting what another covets.

In the end, there was peace at the party place, even if Josh was unsuccessful in his bids to acquire the Space Monkey from Peter. Avery was tickled to have had his buddies over to celebrate, and he made out like a bandit - a fat wad of gift cards and cash, and a collector case 1/2 full of Might Beanz.

Now, if only my kid can find that damned Space Monkey Bean...

-Schlegsofminne