The Wrong-Sized Fork

I have a weird obsession about the size of my dinner fork.  I only like the small forks, because I feel like the big forks with the long prongs are poking down the back of my throat when I take a bite off of one.  Tonight I absent-mindedly took the big fork that I had used to cut up the chicken breasts I'd cooked, and began eating my meal without my usual-sized utensil. 

ME: (taking a bite of dinner) Why do I have this sized fork?  I don't want this sized fork. This is the wrong-sized fork.  (leaving to get a smaller one from the utensil drawer.)
MADELEINE: The wrong-sized WHAT?
ME: Fork.
MADELEINE: The wrong-sized WHAT?
ETHAN: Fork.
MADELEINE: The wrong-sized WHAT?
ME: Fork.
ETHAN: Mom doesn't like the big-sized forks.
JULIA: I don't either.
ETHAN: I guess I'm the only one in the family who likes the big-sized forks.
MADELEINE: I do!  I like the big-sized...umm...mmm...
JULIA: But you always use a kid-sized fork, Madeleine.
MADELEINE: But Julia.  Remember that time that there were no more little...mmm...mmm...
ME: FORKS?
MADELEINE: Uh, yeah.  Remember there were no more little forks, so I had to use the BIG sized fork?  I mean!...SPOON.


Does Madeleine not know what a fork is?  What the heck.