Once upon a time we had a lovely green canister that we used to keep sugar on the counter for coffee, tea, and the odd spot of baking. Daddyo and I both adored it. Note the little wooden spoon that lives permanently in a holder on the side. So convenient (as long as everyone obeys the do-not-stir-the-coffee-with-the-sugar-spoon rule).
But over the course of many years of faithful service, the canister’s hermetic seal began to go. I ignored it for as long as I could, but once the canister began leaking sugar every time we moved it, it was time to say goodbye.
So I brought home this beauty. Gorgeous, right?
Guess what she’s missing.
Yep. No integrated wooden spoon. It took about three seconds of use before Daddyo and I figured out that integrated wooden spoon was one of our favorite features.
The bleary-eyed, pre-coffee solution? Pluck the spoon from the old green canister and plunk it right into the sugar. Handle up, of course, because you know, that’s how you hold a spoon.
All was golden until one snowy morning when Daddyo came traipsing downstairs and discovered this:
Daddyo, exasperatedly: “Shala, can we at least agree to only ever put the spoon in the sugar handle side up?”
Mommyo, defensively: “But when the sugar canister is full, it takes too long to wiggle the spoon in that way. This way you can just shove it down. Much faster.”
Daddyo, didactically: “But you know what you’re doing, right? You’re shoving down all the germs from your hand into the middle of the sugar.”
Mommyo, queasily: “Oh. But if we survived the Bubonic Snowflake, surely we can survive the hand plague.”
Daddyo, definitively: “There is no reason to taunt the hand plague. The immune system helps those who help themselves.”
So now we keep the spoon here.
- In which Daddyo reflects on the universal appeal of Dinosaur Train (Caterpickles)
- “Daddyo, what did our ancestors grow out of?” (Caterpickles)