Our one-year-old daughter, Savannah, tries to grab my plate, but I quickly move in, before she can fling it onto the ground. Then she tries to climb onto the dinner table. After a 4 a.m. wake-up, in L.A., and two long flights, to Baltimore, she’s ready for some excitement. And who can blame her?

I offer her a toy, but she’s bored of her toys and grabs a knife, instead, to put in her mouth. That’s not a good toy. I carefully take it away and she starts crying because I took her toy. Sigh. My husband, Josh, searches to see if there’s anything on the table that won’t break, spill or hurt her. Nope. A moment later, the waiter shows up and I ask him for a spoon.

He returns, gesturing to a spoon, beautifully presented on a napkin against a decorative plate. The fancy presentation strikes me as odd. I just need a toy, right now. I offer the spoon to Savannah. She hits it against the table a few times, with a little giggle, then puts it in her mouth and starts chewing. She’s happy. This toy is safe for her. I can look up and talk to my family, rejoin the rest of the world, and start thinking about dinner.

After a little while, Savannah starts rubbing her eyes, quietly fussing to let me know that she’s super-tired. It’s still afternoon where we’re from, so I put her in a carrier on my chest for a nap. Within moments, she’s in her pre-sleep trance. This is going to work.

My mom offers to get the spoon out of the carrier. “No, let’s leave it,” I say, “She’s finally going to sleep and she’ll get upset if we take her toy”.

She falls asleep, and I pause to appreciate the moment. We survived the cross-country journey to Baltimore, I have an amazing crab concoction in front of me, and I’m sipping on a glass of Pinot Noir, while chatting with my family and snuggling my sleeping baby. What a dream!

The dinner wraps up, and we walk back to our room. When I take her out of the carrier, sure enough, the spoon falls out. Oh no! We’d forgotten about that. Josh assures me we’ll take it back.

The next morning at brunch, I confess to my parents and brother that we’d accidentally stolen the spoon. As if on cue, Savannah starts tugging on the tablecloth. I put her on my lap and she reaches for my glass of ice water. I use the straw to give her a quick sip of the water, while my mom asks the waitress for a spoon.

We’ll remember to give this one back.

Savannah takes the spoon and starts happily waving it in the air. I share little tastes of my breakfast with her, and enjoy brunch and time with my family.

When we get back to the hotel, we realize she’s still holding the spoon. Seriously? Again? Sigh.

So, to the restaurants out there who have sacrificed a spoon or two to a young child, I’m so sorry. And thank you. And to the restaurants we’ll visit next, we’ll probably still ask for a spoon. It just helps so much.

We’ll remember to give this one back.

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