This is a ridiculous story from my childhood. I can't remember why I was discussing it but I remember asking my mom last week, "Remember when Dad stabbed me?"
I should probably preface this by saying that my dad is not a mean, cruel, or hurtful person in any way, shape, or form. Ironically enough my dad was all about safety when I was a kid (I had the bike helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, etc and I was forced against my will to wear them). So much so that my friends nicknamed him "Safety Sam" even though his real name is Steve which would have been another perfectly acceptable alliteration and actually preferable... but whatever.
Anyway.
One night when I was about six we were sitting at the table eating dinner when dad picked his fork up and held it above my hand like he was going to stab me.
Thinking this little game was hilarious I quick pulled my hand away before the fork hit the table.
Haha! Look at me and my lightning fast reflexes!
Haha! This game is so much fun!
How was it even possible that I failed all my reaction-time tests at the science fair in our gym? I'm like quicksilver!
You know where this is going. In all my infinite wisdom I decided to see what he'd do if I didn't move my hand at all.
I still think this story is hilarious, and I remind my dad about it once every few years. To be fair he didn't actually hurt me very bad, maybe just broke the skin. I'm pretty sure I screamed like he had driven the fork through my hand and into the table though and made sure he felt guilty for it for a long time afterward.
