My favourite restaurant memory did not happen in a restaurant.

It was 5:00 p.m.  Despite the restaurant being almost empty, the staff was busy getting ready for the afternoon rush.  When I walked in, I must have been quite the sight to the counter staff.  My wife and I had just welcomed our first child and after two sleepless nights it was my first chance to venture out of the hospital.

Obviously, the ordeal was much easier on me than my wife, but I bring this up merely to point out that I was looking haggard.  Sheri had been given an epidural the previous afternoon and could not eat.  Throughout the following 18 hours, after 36 hours of total labour when our son finally decided to join our family, she had been craving an Egg McMuffin.

This was not an unusual craving and had been a common staple over the last few months.  The problem was that by the time I had an opportunity to leave the hospital, breakfast was long over. (Kids, you might not remember this, but there was a time that McDonalds did not have all-day breakfast.)

I told the counter staff my tale, and I must have looked pathetic and desperate enough, because after talking to the manager and convincing the cook to get the breakfast food out again, I left there with four McMuffins and a feeling of gratitude for the young employee who went out of his way to grant my request.

When I got back to the hospital, Sheri was shocked to see the treasures that emerged from the brown bag.  (Seriously kids, after 11:00 there was no chance of getting a breakfast item.  Indeed it was a dark time).

I sat on the bed and took our son from her arms while she enjoyed the long-sought-after treat.  It was the first moment of quiet and normalcy that the three of us had shared… alone and as a family.  And we owed it all to a generous teenager and a manager willing to bend the rules for a pathetic new father.

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