We went out to a lovely Mexican restaurant called Tampico, a Mexican seafood place we visit every trip.

The snapper, shrimp, and crab legs were excellent as always, but the entertainment put a few exclamation points on our night out.

My brother sat next to me, his wife across from him. Their rambunctious, loud, but cute 18-month-old only child flitted through several seats over the course of the meal.

The kid is a handful at restaurants, if my three experiences with him are a valid sample. He doesn’t appreciate the value of quiet conversation or a place to relax, and why should he at 18 months old?

Let me set the scene for the highlight. My brother’s wife is talking to my mother, who sits to my right. On my left, my brother holds his kid on his lap, facing the table, and bends over as he tries to feed him.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the danger, not even your superdad author. My brother had unwrapped the cutlery from the napkin to get the fork he was using to feed his kid. As the kid squirmed, his hand found the pointy steak knife within reach. He grasped it and, as kids do, he threw his hands up in the air.

His little fist flew up and connected with my brother’s nose, then stabbed him in the face with the knife. My brother reached up and grabbed his nose and eyes, shouting, “Take the baby! Take the baby!”

The baby was took, and we surveyed the damage. My brother had a bloody nose from the blow and luckily the tip of the knife had missed his eye by millimeters.

Whether his father or laptop keyboards, the kid has only succeeded to temporarily incapacitate his victims. He’s got a way to go.

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