We have spoons. In the same way a lot of people collect fine china, antique clocks, Faberge eggs, French Impressionism paintings, or odd and singular artifacts, we seem to be the collectors of spoons.

There are spoons in the drawer like there are daytime inhabitants of Manhattan. Different shapes, different sheens, differing fabrication, lengths, spooning capacity, and various different materials from stainless steels to slightly varnished silver. There are no sets. There are pairs. There is the occasional and inexplicable collection of 3. There are some that seem to match in certain lights and in others they are different, almost contrary. Mostly they are singular. They are solitary residents of the utensil drawer whose roots, points of origin, and age remain a mystery.

I like the “baby” spoons the least. The Baby Spoons are plentiful in number and useless in application. If you are spooning small portions of toxin or weapons grade plutonium, they perhaps are useful. But if you are an adult man looking to efficiently feed yourself cereal, ice cream, or some other spoonable food stuff, they are a pointless-to-possess culinary tool. When we moved into the new house in April of 2001 I tried to vanquish the Baby Spoons. While setting up the utensil drawer in the most convenient place, I decided to trash the entire portion of the spoon population comprised of Baby Spoons. I threw them in the trash bag and walked all 37 of them to the trash bin, wheeled it to the curb, and bid them a fond farewell to the trash dump. But they returned and multiplied.

In the near 17 months since I enacted Baby Spoon Genocide they have returned slowly to the utensil drawer. I know Kelly didn’t dig them out of the trash and stealthily replace them into our already over-crowded population of spoons. I know she did not buy any new spoons because these spoons are not in sets and they are not new. And the return of the Baby Spoons is not even the worst part…with them they brought Baby Forks! So now, in addition to having an epidemic of mismatched and totally useless miniature-headed spoons, I now must contend with their diminutive spear-headed cousins. And like mice, rats, and roaches I cannot figure out how they are making it into the house and managing to propagate their steely species.

Lately I have been sequestering the offending utensils upon unloading them from the dishwasher. This keeps them out of the way when I reach in to find their superior counterpart…The Man Spoon. This method of Sequester and Study should prove useful in determining where these things derive.

I will publish my findings at some future date.