Spoons for crying out loud

Spoons. wooden, plastic metal, soup, tea, sugar, slotted, absinthe. All kind-o-spoons. The last one on the list I have no personal connection to, but, have heard from a VERY credible source they hold magical healing powers.

Anyhoo. About ten years ago Martha was in the kitchen making dinner. Peas were part of the fare. Martha spooned up up an extra big helpin' o' peas. With a non-slotted spoon. Ah, for the love of God and all that is holy! Imagine the horror. Pea water running loose all over the plate communicating with it's superior dinner counterparts. Not right I say. I suggested (instructed if you believe Martha) that a slotted spoon would perhaps work better. There might or might not have been a short discussion on the inner workings of the slots and how when combined with gravity the slots separate peas from pea juice. Whatever the discussions was, I only recall the end of the discussion. A short rebuke. Something along the lines of "Don't you have something better to do?" A good question I add. If I had nothing better to do, it suggested I was trite and irrelevant in the world (which may still hold true). . . If I indeed had something better to do, clearly the question implied I ought to be doing it.

Fast forward ten years to ten minutes ago. I was getting the boys a little yogurt and melatonin. The melatonin is ground up and powdery. It gets mixed with the yogurt. We have special little spoons for the boys. . . they are curved (so easier to grasp) and have a bunch of small little holes (help keep sauces and stuff from slipping onto laps or floor). When I selected a special little spoon, guess who had an opinion on my spoon selection? (Allegedly, the little holes were going to interfere with the melatonin delivery). Would you believe it? Ten years, full circle. Now, there is only one thing to say: Baby, do you have something better to do?