Blog 2

When I was six years old, my parents took me to Disney World. I had always watched the TV commercials about it, but never dreamed I would be able to go. And then one day, out of the blue, my dad woke me up at three in the morning, put me in the car, and started to drive. I passed out on most of the trip, and when I woke up, I was in a stroller, looking up at Cinderella's castle. I never squealed so much in my life. Right in front of the castle, was the mouse himself, Mickey. I remember, I jumped out of my stroller and ran to him so fast, my parents didn't even know I was gone; I got spanked for that later. But I was too excited to care about stranger danger. I remember that hug so well. He lifted me off my seat and twirled me around in a giant circle

I remember the day I turned 13. It was such an amazing day. I had been waiting my entire life to be 13, so I could finally be labeled by society as a teenager. I remember being so proud. I started walking with a strut in my step, and my head held high. I felt so classy and mature. I started to talk with a more authorative tone, and I started to boss my little brother more than usual. I was so happy to be a teenager; I felt like I crossed a major stepping stone in my life. I would be able to be more trusted, have more responsibilities, go out more, and have more fun. Even though I wouldn't be able to get away with things as much as I used to, I didn't care. I was practically an adult. That first day to teenage-dom, I walked to the playground all by myself without my parents. I was on top of the world.