The Girly Spoon

Because the money we could spend on fireworks would amount to a display that would have trouble stunning the cat, we have made a family tradition of spending Fireworks Night having supper out in Orewa, followed by a lazing (well, in my case) in the hot pools at Waiwera. We have recently shared round the family flu virus; exams are next week (in Beloved Daughter's case) and the week after (in Beloved Son's case) so swimming is Out Out OUT! Also, the pet restaurant, Sahara, has gone out of business. So, we went to Mayumi, for Japanese supper instead.
Mayumi is tiny and beautiful, like the oyster-shell carvings my parents kept on the mantelpiece. Their food is just as detailed.
But they're catering, tongue-in-cheek, for their Western audience, and my lot caved in and ordered deep-fried ice-cream.
Mayumi has a stunning selection of chopsticks - including baby chopsticks, which are rather like a cross between a plastic icing bag and sock-knitting-needles - and they are all elegant and gorgeous. However, they clearly lack for spoons (and no restaurant owner in the world wants to see the state of his floor after feeding people ice-cream with chopsticks)  and so every spoon in the place was being pressed into service. Dad got a tablespoon, which didn't bother him. Up until Beloved Daughter raised her first spoonful to her mouth, Son and Heir wasn't thinking about it, after that it was...
WHY DID I GET THE GIRLY SPOON?