Teletubby Terrors

November 16, 2011
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Stupidity has gotten me into some trouble over the first few years of my life. Looking back, my most memorable moments of stupidity have left permanent scars on me.

Stupid event number one happened when I was obsessed with Teletubbies. I was four and a half at the time – yes, I still stress upon the “half” part- and I was absolutely crazy about Teletubbies. I don’t remember what exactly drew me to this obsession. Maybe it was the baby in the sun that giggled every five seconds, or maybe it was little red Po or the shapes on each teletubby’s head. I’m not sure, but I do know that the dance that they did at the beginning of each show was epic enough for the four-and-a-half year old me to do daily.

Anyways, it was a Thursday night. I only remember the day because Thursday was the only day my father had visitation rights. That night, he took my older sister (Jennah) and me out to McDonald’s for a quick meal before a night of bowling. I was very excited about McDonald’s because my father let me get a Mighty Kid’s meal instead of a wimpy Happy Meal. We placed the order, and while my sister and I waited, we decided to show our excitement by doing the very Teletubby dance I mentioned earlier around my father’s feet.

I unfortunately did not see the clearly marked “Caution: Wet Floor” sign. I slipped. I fell backwards, and my head went right into the corner of the counter. It stuck there for a few moments. When I finally fell to the floor, I was crying. I felt something warm and wet on my neck. I was in too much pain to check what it was, but when my father put a multitude of paper towels on my head, I figured it was blood. The next thing I remember seeing, besides my sister crying and my father’s worried face, was the woman behind the counter calling 911.

An ambulance soon arrived on the scene. When it got there, the gash in my head was still bleeding pretty badly. Behind all the agonizing pain, blood, and tears, I was actually pretty excited. For some reason, I had always wanted to take a ride in an ambulance. Then I learned that the paramedic was also a fire fighter, which has no real relevance to the story, but I always wanted to be a fire fighter, so it was cool for me at the time.

The ride to the hospital was a fast one. I remember being in the stretcher with all the medical stuff around me. It was kind of scary. When we got to the hospital, I was surprised to see that my mother was there waiting for me. She wasn’t happy with my father for letting such a thing happen to me, but she was more concerned about me. The most dreadful part of the night was when the doctor told me he had to give me a shot in the wound. I didn’t like shots at all, so I started crying profusely. My mom offered her hand. She told me to squeeze her hand and count to ten while the doctor gave me the shot. The pain was awful. If I had been any other age older than 4 and a half, I may have hurt my mom’s hand. Then the doctor said that the shot was going to numb the area so I wouldn’t feel them putting in the stitches.

About 20 minutes and four stitches later, I was freed from the hospital. I went home with my mother and sister with a permanent scar on the right side of my head. If I get a really short hair cut, you can see the scar because no hair grows there anymore. And it's all because of those stupid Teletubbies.





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