As a young father, the thought of going out to dinner with my child in tow was enough to make me lose my appetite. I mean, it really made me cringe.
Of course it was a chore to haul around his extra supplies: diaper bag, the baby blue coat we used to cram him into, the hat we'd put on his head, the car seat, etc. But the most unnerving thing about taking him to a restaurant was the threat of him fussing and ultimately disrupting everybody around us.
Like most parents, we usually got a babysitter, but on those occasions when we couldn't find one, we'd bring him along with us. As I recall, he was usually a pretty good baby. But I distinctly remember a few occasions when he got upset, began crying and ruined the experience. One of us would have to take him out and the other, feeling guilty, would usually follow (because who wants to sit there and eat alone, anyway).
Okay, now you're asking, why am I broaching this subject? I mean, I'm the guy who blogs about being a middle-aged father whose kids are all but grown up, why am I writing about fussing babies in restaurants?
