In plugging in our small Christmas tree today, I looked at all the decorations I made throughout my elementary school days. One in particular caught my eye as the afternoon sun made the ornament shimmer. I made this particular ornament in the third grade the morning after my father dropped me on head.
It was normal for a morning in the third grade for my dad to carry me from my pink warm covers to lay on the couch with my Mickey Mouse blanket while he fixed me breakfast. Still in my sleep coma, my dad always picked up me to deliver me to my seat at the breakfast table. After scarfing down my strawberry Pop-Tart, I lifted my arms up for dad to carry me back to the living room, so I could resume my watching of cartoons.
My dad had a stumble in our thirty feet journey from the kitchen to the living room. The accidentally left open bread drawer at the kitchen counter intersected with our path to the couch. He never noticed it was still open from getting bread for his toast, and off we went. Dad tripped and my head hit the adjoining counter.
I started screaming, but it was not because I was in pain. I was more concerned with my dad who was still trying to scrape himself off the lament kitchen floor. My mom came tearing out the bathroom in her blue bathrobe wondering what the loud thud and shrills were about. She thought my dad had a heart attack until she looked at me.
Blood was pulsing out of my eye brow, and she grabbed my arm and sat me down. Once she cleaned up my face, she kept applying pressure to my face. It didn’t really hurt, but the one thing I noticed was the time ticking on the clock. It was drawing time for mom to take me to school.
“When are we leaving for school?” I asked.
My mom looked at me like I was crazy. Perhaps, she wondered if the fall caused me to think such a crazy thought. I am not sure. She told me I wasn’t going to school.
That’s when I started crying. I think I was even close to sobbing. Not going to school? Didn’t she know what today was? We were supposed to make ornaments and finish our Christmas projects. I couldn’t miss a day like that. Plus, I was supposed to wear my new white Christmas sweater that day. She couldn’t keep me from school.
After much crying, begging, and sobbing, my mother stuck a butterfly band-aid across my eye brow. She tried to convince me that I needed to get stitches. I just kept shaking my head no. I wanted to go to school, and no one was going to stop me. Well of course my mom would have, but she apparently let me go.
So, off in my new white Christmas sweater I went. I managed not to get any blood on my sweater while I put it on. I got to finish my Christmas poster we were making, and I got to finish up all my ornaments to bring them home.
I still have a scar in my eye brow as a result of the fall. However, that Christmas I remember I got some of the best presents ever from Santa and my presents. Maybe Santa felt a little guilty that my parents dropped me on head.