Christmas was one of my favourite times of year as a kid (as most people will say). The countdowns with advent calendars filled with terrible tasting chocolate, writing messy handwritten letters to santa asking for ridiculous things, all the school activities in December leading up to it. It’s magical.
Every Christmas Eve we’d sit around the TV as a family and watched the Carols (for people outside Australia, it’s a three-hour show where celebrities – I’m using the term loosely – sing Carols and the Wiggles and Santa Claus would come on for the kids). My sister and I would put cookies and milk out for Santa in front of the fireplace, and shaved carrots for the reindeer. We’d hang our oversized stockings up and head to bed, with my parents strict instructions “No getting out of bed until 7, otherwise Santa won’t come!”.
I’d always sleep terribly, too excited for the presents waiting in the lounge room. The second the clock hit 7am, I’d be tearing up the stairs, bowling into my parents’ room, begging them to let me open my presents. My sister wouldn’t be far behind. My parents were always way too slow for my liking, but eventually we’d run down the stairs and into the lounge room. There were always piles of presents, some under the tree (the presents “from my parents”) and ones in front of the fire place (from “Santa”). I remember one year “Santa” changed it up and left me and my sister bikes behind the couches instead. Another year, he left us a trampoline in the backyard. This was probably the most memorable Christmas as within 24 hours of getting that trampoline, my sister (who was about 4 at the time) broke her leg on it. We were on it together and we must have bounced too close together or something, and the next second she’s howling in pain. Surprisingly, it wasn’t anything to do with the exposed springs, which is usually how injuries on trampolines happen!
I remember my dad rushing her to the closest doctor’s office – one we’d never been to before – and him coming back, carrying my sister awkwardly, telling mum they’d said it was just sprained. My sister was still screaming and crying, and I guess mother’s intuition kicked in as she told dad to go straight to our normal doctor’s office instead (I’m not sure why he didn’t go there initially…I guess they may not have been opened that early or something). I remember the time dragged on and they were there a long time, and when dad came back, my sister had a big cast over her whole leg (right up to her hip) and she had something called a ‘Green Stick Fracture’. I didn’t know what that was, but it sounded funny. I now know it means she basically broke the bone clear through. She was so little that my mum had to hunt around for crutches small enough. For the next six weeks, she had to have baths with a garbage bags over her cast, she had to go into her old stroller that she was miles to big for, that her kindergarten had to make special arrangements for her. There was also a new rule that was never broken (possibly the only one to not be!) – “only one person jumping on the trampoline at once!”
This prompt was found here, along with a whole bunch of others.