Why the Beans Can't Be Perfect

Last night for dinner I made a righteous batch of Malagasy Beans and Rice (a delicious recipe from my friend Rachel who lived in Madagascar for a year on mission).  This meal is a favorite for each of us for different reasons:  it's fast and healthy, that makes me happy; it's bright and tasty flavor pleases the boys so they often have two or three helpings; and it's inexpensive and satisfying, which Aaron especially likes.

So, while we ate it up last night, Aaron on his second helping, he looked at me and said,"Andria, these beans are perfect!" Before I could say thank you, Andres piped up from his end of the table.  

"No, dad!  These beans aren't perfect, they're good!"

"Well, I think these beans are perfect, I can have a different opinion," Aaron replied with a shrug.  Andres is a master at luring us into trivial arguments, and we're learning how to diffuse the argument before it really gets going.  

"Dad," Andres stressed, "these beans can't be perfect!"  He seemed pretty offended and curiosity got the best of me.

"Why not, Andres?  What's wrong with my beans?"  Even  I was getting a bit distressed about it.  I mean, they were freaky-good beans. 

"Mom, remember?  Perfect is the enemy of good!  That's why I say they are just good."

At that I burst out laughing.  This had nothing to do with dinner table opinions or picking fights, like I thought, but philosophies from Enlightenment Era France!  My son was quoting back to me a quote I say to him frequently as we work on reading or art, or even behaviors and choices.  

I have a quote on my desk just above my computer where I can see it as I write.  I can see it now, in it's simple black frame, and it's handsome French script.  

"Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien."  

-Voltaire

Perfection is the enemy of good.  I refer to it frequently as I hammer away on my novels, because I am my own worst critique, and chasing perfection often backfires in art, as it does in life, ruining the thing which we strive to perfect.  I share it with Andres because he's a Type A personality and comes by that honestly, as I struggle with letting things go when they fall short from ideal.  I wish someone had shared Voltaire's philosophy with me when I was younger, maybe I would have released myself (and others) from unrealistic expectations.  But I know my son and he has the same drive to do things just perfectly, and pummels himself when he falls short.

It enlightened me then at the table, my beans in their spoon hovering in the air over my dish, as I blinked back tears from laughter at my scowling six year old philosopher quoting Voltaire.  After I explained to Aaron what was really happening, I smiled at Andres in a reassuring way and told him that he was right, that striving to be perfect is an enemy.

"However," I said as I took a bite, "these beans can be very, very close to perfect."