All I Want for Christmas

My sixth Christmas was like none other, and the song “All I want for Christmas” took on a whole new meaning that year. After the sun had set on a frosty December night, my sister Sarah, who was only ten years old at the time, and I were in for the scare of our lifetime. My mother had not yet come home from work, and my dad had just left the room to go take a shower. My sister and I were watching T.V. when she thought she saw the back sliding glass door rattle. She even thought that it was opening a little. Since we were not expecting my mom anytime soon, we knew that someone unwanted was trying to make their way into our house. Even though my dad was in the next room, my sister and I felt like we were home alone because we were so young.

Trying to protect me she yelled, “Run, we have to hide!”

Being only six at the time, I was confused at what she had heard or seen. With confusion and adrenaline pumping through my body, I jumped up and ran towards the bathroom where my dad was showering. Not far behind me was my sister tripping over the heels of my feet, and pushing me to go faster. We slammed open the bathroom door alerting my dad with our screams.

“Someone is trying to break in,” my sister exaggeratingly shouted. “I saw the door opening!”

She latched onto my head with her hand and shoved me first behind the washing machine, but I couldn’t fit within the small space. She then grabbed and moved me to hide behind the toilet. My dad immediately jumped out of the shower and covered himself with a towel. Although he was probably embarrassed, neither my sister nor I had noticed that he was still unclothed. We were too worried about the man who may have been breaking into our house.

“What the fu…” my dad yelled confusingly, as he caught his last word.

“Someone tried to come in the back door!” my sister repeated, her breath shaking with terror.

While my dad tried to get dressed, I noticed a dribble coming from my mouth, and a taste on my tongue like I had swallowed a penny. As I swiped my fingers across my lips, I realized my mouth was bleeding uncontrollably. However, I was too caught up in the moment, and my focus was not on where the blood was coming from, but my dad running from the bathroom in a panic. Returning after only a few moments, my dad reassured both of us that no one had broken into the house and after finding a Christmas package, he realized that it was only the UPS man trying to push our package under the overhang so it did not get ruined out in the rain. With the chaos off of the burglar, my dad also noticed I was bleeding. He rushed over to me and opened my mouth.

“You knocked out your teeth!” my dad exclaimed.

Thinking I would reach up and feel my two front teeth still strongly secured in my mouth, I only felt soft slimy gums. When I touched the holes where my teeth used to be, the pain made my lips pucker and my eyes shut tight. Finally I began to absorb what he was telling me, and I felt for myself. He was right, for I had lost both of my two front teeth. While my sister was trying to protect and hide me, her forcefulness had consequently knocked my teeth against the washing machine and the toilet. Sarah searched for my teeth while my dad tried to calm me down. My fear of someone breaking in instantly switched to anger and fear of my teeth being bashed out of my gums. The blood eventually stopped, and we all quieted down. Unfortunately the night had left our family with shaken emotions and me with a gaping hole between my teeth. Needless to say, when we visited the Nordstrom’s Santa Clause the following December afternoon, all I wanted for Christmas was my two front teeth.