“Ring, Ring, Ring”. “ Well hello yellow teletubby”. I said into my new toy phone . The phone looked to be old fashion, with a spiral cord that hung off the end. I was sitting on the floor in my parents bedroom. It was just turning dark, and shadows casted through the bedroom windows. My parents bedroom is big, about the size of a classroom. With a TV, a queen bed, and two dressers on each side. I was sitting at the base of their bed, on their nice soft navy blue carpet. The room was recently cleaned and smelled of wood polish. I talked into the phone for a long time. Long enough for my dad to take it away from me. But his mistake was leaving it where I could see it. On top of my five foot high dresser. He placed it atop the dresser and left the room to go to the bathroom, and left my sister in charge of watching me.
But my sister was very interested in her book and didn’t notice me scrambling quickly to the dresser. From across the room I reached the dresser in about ten five seconds. Once I reached the base of it I noticed the nobs on the dresser were handholds. I started climbing, not even scared of the consequences because at my age I was about as smart as a puppy. Up and up I went. Climbing fast with no fear. I was at the top with the blue phone in view. But when I put my hand on top of the dresser, a piece of glass slid off. It went down and sliced my lip. Instantly I started screaming. My dad sprinted out of the bathroom, to see the problem, and grabbed me. He told my sister get paper towels for the blood, and that we were going to the hospital.
My sister quickly came back with the paper towels and started dabbing my lip. She picked me up and we walked out of my parents bedroom and into the cold night. It was November 4, and was very chilly. Our car wasn’t in the garage, but parked under our old creaky basketball hoop. We walked up to the car and got in. I sat in the back in my car seat and my sister sat next to me to dab the blood. Surprisingly I stopped crying. The pain started to numb, but I still occasionally whimpered like a sad dog.
We drove about five miles over the speed limit on the Merritt Parkway, headed to the closest walk in emergency clinic. About five minutes later we arrived at a place in Fairfield. My sister picked me out of my car seat and brought me into the clinic. There was one person ahead of us in line. But seeing my current condition, he let me go. A nurse directed us to a brightly lit, white room with a bed and a table in the middle of the room. The table was full of sharp knives, tweezers, and anything you wouldn’t want to be touched with. The nurse grabbed me from my sisters arms and strapped me down to the bed. Enabling me to move. So I screamed at the top of my lungs for no reason, because that’s what two year olds do when they a nervous. The nurse and my sister left the room, while my dad stayed and said comforting things to me. It helped but I was still scared out of my mind. A minute passed, and a tall slim doctor came in and talked to my dad. All I heard was that he needed 14 stitches. The doctor walked over to the awful table and picked up tweezers and tread. He bent down close to my face and I felt a sharp pain and saw him pulling the thread through my lip. This repeated 14 more times until he got up and gave my dad a thumbs up. He then unstrapped me and handed me over to my dad. The doctor walked out of the room and quickly came back with a purple popsicle. He gave it to me and I put it in my mouth. The pain instantly subsided and the taste of grape filled my mouth. We walked out of the clinic and before we stepped into the car I said to my dad “ I don’t like that mean man”.