‘I’m getting the wooden spoon.’ For generations, nothing would strike fear into the heart of an Irish child more than the mere mention of these few words. Usually, the threat was enough, but if you heard the drawer being opened you knew you’d gone too far, and it was time to skedaddle.
Many’s the time my backside was on the receiving end of a few taps, and I’m convinced they did no harm.
Nowadays, parents, quite rightly, have replaced the spoon with the naughty step and reward good behaviour with a star in the star jar.
And of course, the wooden spoon is always associated with the team who come last. On checking with Mr Google, I learn the term originated in Cambridge University in the 1800s and was awarded to the unfortunate student who scored the lowest marks in maths. More interestingly, I’m told, in Wales, suitors gave intricately carved spoons as a sign as a token of love and affection.
Fair play to them!
However, what I’ve never been able to figure out is why toddlers, instead of playing with their toys, prefer to drag every saucepan onto the kitchen floor and wallop the daylights out of them with a wooden spoon. There must be divine intervention involved, for I remember my two always seemed to do it on mornings after I’d had a few libations the night before.
Then came the first cookery lessons. Usually, a chocolate biscuit cake in our house. The rolling pin came into action as tiny hands flaked packets of Marietta biscuits into smithereens before throwing them into the bowl of melted chocolate. The general idea was to use a spoon to transfer the mix into bun cases, but invariably hands joined in the fun.
And then, one of life’s big moments – ‘Do you want to lick the spoon?’
Happy days, and I must confess, I don't mind reliving those times by cleaning every morsel whenever Herself makes those cakes.
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