I’m not sure when exactly it got started but we had long been a house divided. Jeremy called them chick peas, I called them garbanzo beans. For years we navigated conversations about these legumes carefully, it wasn’t worth a battle. Thankfully, humus doesn’t require calling the mashed version anything other than it’s hip name
Then we had kids. Kids that loved to snack on the little balls of protein. Confusion ensued as he called them one thing and I called them another. Our poor girls started joining both names together in an attempt to understand and communicate with both of us. And so we carried on until one day an observation was made:
“It looks like I’m eating little butts! Little butt beans!”
Girls can be just as interested in body functions and funny body parts as boys. They can be just as gross too.
“Very funny. They are garbanzo beans.”
“Nope, they’re butt beans! Look I’m eating a butt, it’s going to fart in my mouth!”
More hysterical laughter.
“Oh, this is great.”
The name has stuck and now all the girls still call them butt beans. I stick to garbanzo beans and Jeremy prefers chick peas but the girls don’t hesitate to ask for butt beans and there’s no confusion as to what they are talking about.