If I took a quick look around my kitchen, I would probably find my reflection in a wooden spoon. Not literally, as it is not a metallic spoon, but figuratively. Because like me, a wooden spoon is a well-rounded, smooth, and brown being.
Spoons are a good friend. They work to productively pick up others when they are down. They do not have to stab their friends in the back in order to do this, much like their evil counter parts do (forks). Spoons have no harmful intent in them. The Chinese adopted the use of the chopstick because they thought forks provoked violence with their sharp edges. Knives can bring joy by glistening with the juice from your steak, or by carrying the left over cream cheese spread from after preparing your bagel. At the same time, knives can glisten from the blood of an enemy, or carry the memories of the numerous souls it has murdered.
Spoons are a smooth and versatile tool. Much like me, they are able to adapt and make good out of almost any situation handed to them. Try putting a fork in a bowl of soup. Try serving ice cream to a crowd of hyper active, hungry children with a butter knife. Neither will do much good, and you will only get frustrated or annoyed by the voice of children in either scenario. Spoons on the other hand, can adapt and work with different challenges while still staying their true selves.
Wooden spoons do not become cold-hearted or hot-heated in times of stress like their metallic cousins do. They are good at keeping their Goldilocks temper(ature). When they are faced with adversity, they do not just melt away. Instead they stay hard-grained and sturdy.
All in all, I would say the wooden spoon best defines me, not only because my mother used one on me for disciplinary measures, but also because I, like the wooden spoon, am a tough, versatile man.