Leif, my son, is on the autism spectrum. Like many children with autism, he thrives on routines, has unique preferences, and can become deeply fixated on specific objects or interests. These fixations are more than just passing fancies—they provide him with comfort, structure, and joy in a world that often feels overwhelming. One particular fixation recently had been a toy from McDonald’s that he had heard about from a friend at school. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about it, the way he repeated every detail he knew—it was clear that this toy had captured his imagination completely.

For days, even weeks, Leif spoke about this toy with unwavering excitement. It became part of his daily routine—mentioning it in the morning, bringing it up after school, and asking about it at bedtime. I knew this wasn’t just about a toy—it was about anticipation, about hope, about something he was deeply emotionally invested in. So, naturally, we planned a special trip to McDonald’s to get the long-awaited Happy Meal and, hopefully, the Team Titans toy he had been dreaming about.

We arrived full of hope and excitement. After placing our order, we headed straight to the toy kiosk to check. But then came the crushing news: the Team Titans toys had already been discontinued and replaced with a new series of Batman toys. My heart sank as I turned to look at Leif’s face. In an instant, the joy drained from his expression. He stood still, visibly devastated, trying to process the sudden disappointment. It wasn’t just a moment of sadness—it was heartbreak.

I did my best to explain to Leif that sometimes things don’t go as we plan, and that changes like this are part of life. But if you know anything about autism, you know that unexpected changes—especially when they involve long-built expectations—can be incredibly difficult. For Leif, this wasn’t about missing out on a toy. It was about something he had emotionally committed to, something he believed was going to happen. And now, it was gone.

That’s when something extraordinary happened.

A McDonald’s employee named TQ, who had overheard our conversation, came over. She had been working nearby, but it was clear that she had taken notice of our situation. With a warm and understanding tone, she asked me what was going on. I explained about Leif, about his autism, and how important this particular toy had become to him. TQ didn’t hesitate. She listened patiently, her face showing genuine empathy, and then she quietly told me she was going to try something.

She went to speak with her manager, and I overheard her politely but passionately explaining our situation. She asked if it would be possible to access the retired Team Titans toys, which had been removed from circulation and were no longer part of the Happy Meals. Even though this request went against standard policy, TQ advocated for Leif with a level of compassion that was nothing short of remarkable. You could hear in her voice how much she cared.

After a few tense minutes, the manager gave the green light. What followed was a beautiful act of dedication and kindness. TQ spent the next 15–20 minutes carefully opening up the toy display, locating each of the Team Titans toys that were still there, and making sure she could find the one Leif had his heart set on. She didn’t rush. She didn’t treat it like a chore. She treated it like it mattered—because to Leif, it truly did.

And then, she handed him the toys.

Leif’s reaction was immediate and heart-melting. His eyes lit up, and his whole body seemed to come alive with joy. He smiled, laughed, and began examining the toys with pure delight. The sadness from earlier melted away in an instant. He clutched the toys tightly and didn’t want to let go. In that moment, the world made sense to him again. He was happy. He felt heard. He felt understood.

I don’t think TQ will ever fully realize the impact she had that day.

Her actions weren’t just about customer service. They were about humanity—about recognizing that sometimes, the smallest gestures can mean the most. She didn’t have to help us. She could have followed the rules and moved on with her shift. But she chose empathy over ease, compassion over convenience.

McDonald’s is incredibly lucky to have someone like TQ representing their brand. She exemplifies the very best of what people can do when they choose kindness. Her actions went far beyond the walls of that restaurant—they left a lasting impression on a child and his family.

What may have seemed like a small moment to others was, for us, unforgettable.

Leif’s happiness that day wasn’t just because of the toys—it was because someone went out of their way to see him, to understand him, and to make his world feel a little bit brighter.

To TQ: thank you. Thank you for your heart, your patience, and your willingness to go above and beyond. You turned a difficult moment into a joyful memory—and for that, we are forever grateful.