I made Joe fried mashed potatoes as his starch for dinner (along with cauliflower, eggs, and bacon, if the Division of Children and Family Services must know). Two palm-sized patties, fried for about 10 minutes in butter that I'd softened garlic in. Because I was busy doing other stuff, I didn't worry them with the spatula and they crisped up properly, nice brown lacy patterns on flat smooth buttery faces.
I put them on his plate and walked back to the stove.
Joe: Hey, Dad, can you help me pick these up?
Dad: Uhm, don't you use a fork for those?
Joe: Why would I?