Personal Narrative: My Mom's Whiske

According to my mom I didn’t have a name when I was first born in DC, my parents couldn’t settle on one, and believe it or not, Andrew was the name my mom liked the least. As my dad finally convinced my mom, Andrew became my name and the story of my life began. As my parents would soon realize, I wouldn’t cry like most children, but instead I would spend my time observing the world around me, so curious about how it worked. For some strange reason, no matter how many toys I had, my mom’s whisk was what I spent most of my time playing with. I would take it with me wherever I went; but with the passing of time, and with my discovery of the VCR and the rewind button, I soon replaced the whisk with Toy Story. I would watch it over and over again,
The first one was provided by the ER free of charge, but for them to administer any of the other six shots, it would have cost $7,500 per shot. Instead, the doctors at the ER gave my mom the shots, and taught her how to inject a needle; she had to give me the next six. She recalls that giving me those shots in my puncture site were some of the most painful moments for her as a parent. The following days, I would return to the dog park and play with other dogs. Only four years later, my dad quit his job and moved down here to work for American Airlines. Unfortunately, my mom could not move down, as she couldn’t find a job she liked. My dad was in Texas, and we were across the Mississippi River. Thankfully, since my dad was working for American, he was able to fly up to be with us on the weekends, but only then. While he was gone, I stepped up to fill his spot; I helped around the house and took care of my brother. My life was like this for the next two years, until my mom finally found Parish, and we were a family