The day our bus-boy tried to kill our newborn

Six years ago we brought home our youngest child. 

After three weeks at home with a newborn and two toddlers, my wife was stir crazy.  She wanted to take the family out to dinner on Saturday night.  She was craving meat so we headed north to a great steak-house up the road a bit from North Ogden. 

Our toddlers were acting extraordinarily well-behaved that evening, as they sat and played with their toys, but our newborn was fussy.  He wasn't crying or screaming by any means, but he was making louder than normal baby noises. 

Our waitress came and took our order.  We ordered half a cow as I rocked our baby in my arms to try to keep him quiet.  A few restless minutes passed and a buss-boy came to our table and set down a two-inch tall miniature bottle of warm baby formula.  He turned and walked away.

I held up the bottle and inspected its contents.  "Wow, you go to a fancy steak-house and they bring your newborn a drink too.  That's pretty cool.  Do you think he is being too fussy?  Do you think they are trying to politely tell us to shut our kid up?"

"Can I see it?"  One of my toddlers asked, reaching past my outstretched arm.

"No, it's not a toy, it's for the baby."  I responded, holding the bottle out of reach.  I set the bottle down on the end of the table where the check is usually dropped off so it wouldn't be disturbed.

Several minutes passed and the baby and the toddlers grew restless.  It was a busy night and our meal was delayed. 

"It's gonna be a while.  You haven't fed the baby yet.  Why don't you feed him the bottle?"  My wife asked.

"That sounds fun."  I reached over and popped the clear cap off the top with one hand.  The lid bounced around on the table and fell onto my older son's lap.  He looked up and smiled.  He looked back down and filled the lid with Lego's.

The babies head jerked around to the touch of the nipple to his cheek.  He latched on.  His lips settled into a steady rhythm and I leaned back, enjoying my family.  I looked up and smiled at my wife.  She winked at me.  We were prepared to last a few more minutes without nourishment.

Just when we expected our food to arrive, the restaurant manager came to our table with an expression that feared a lawsuit.

"Good evening," her voice cracked.  "I don't know how to say this, but that bottle was supposed to go to a different table.  A customer gave the bottle to a waitress who gave it to a cook to warm up, who gave it to a bus-boy to return it to the customer, but he saw your baby and gave it to you on accident."

I pulled the near-empty bottle from the babies mouth.  "Tell me that was formula." I said as my head rolled back and my eyes widened.  I set the bottle down on the table and the manager picked it up. 

"Yes, I'm pretty sure it was just formula."  she replied.

There was silence for a moment as I stared at my wife and looked down at my newborn son, questioning my ability to use common sense. 

"Well, lets find out what was in the bottle I just fed my newborn."  I demanded in a whisper.

"I'll do that sir, I'll be right back."  She walked away with the empty bottle in her hand.

I shook my head while staring at my wife.  "That thing sat right on the edge of our table for ten minutes without being touched.  She's probably wondering what kind of idiot puts a random bottle in their kids mouth.  It looked like a disposable bottle, a little one use thing you would just throw away.  We've never taken a baby to a nice restaurant before.  Oh, this is just unreal."
A few minutes later the manager returned with the look of someone who just lost a lawsuit.  "It wasn't formula."

We ate half a cow while wondering what to do next.  The baby fell asleep, totally oblivious to blood-borne illnesses and STD's. 

We got a chance to talk to our baby's surrogate milk donor.  It turned out she was a nurse at Primary Children's Hospital.  She worked with children who had compromised immune systems.  She had regular blood work done for her job.  She told us we couldn't ask for a better milk donor.  Somehow I believed her.

I sometimes wonder if what we considered to be an act of complete stupidity didn't help our son.  Maybe she passed an important antibody to our son.  Maybe his surrogate milk donor helped him avoid a serious disease.  Sometimes what seems like a curse is really a blessing.

We ate at that steak-house again with our three kids last month.  We ordered a whole cow that time.  I avoided the temptation to order a miniature bottle of breast milk.