All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth (no really)

The other day I was thinking about fun memories and then it hit me: holy shit, this Christmas will be the 10 year anniversary of me falling off a push scooter and busting my face. In Florida. Probably hundreds or thousands of miles away from my home state. Florida.

You see, that Christmas my family went down to Tampa Bay, FL to have Christmas with my Uncle and his then wife. we also drove for 18 hours but that's not the point, I just hated that. going under the tunnel under water was cool though. Anyways, Florida was weird. it was December but it was 80 degrees. I only wanted to go because I heard we might go to Disneyworld. So Christmas day comes and my little cousin got one of those Razor scooters because it was 2000 and that was the fad then. yep, one of these

fuck. you.


well, I wanted a try on it. everything was going smoothly. it felt like I was flying! I was the King of the World! and then I saw a rock, swerved and went down. hard. my cousin's rushed towards me and we can see is that my hands are really cut up. and then I lifted my face up and saw that a good chunk of my front tooth was laying on the ground. I started touching my face only to feel nothing but pain. my former aunt's brothers were with us and they ran towards me and had me open my mouth so one of them could see if there was any really bad damage. there was. not only had I broke my tooth, I broke it so severely that my fucking root was hanging out.

just like that.

breathing through my mouth hurt, drinking hurt, eating hurt, and crying hurt too. and I remember not crying until I saw my dad who just started laughing because 1) my face was bleeding and 2) I kept screaming that I ruined Christmas and then made me call my grandparents to tell them about it. so my mom made the plan that the next day, we'd leave the next morning so she could make me an appointment with my dentist. and then we were begged by my former aunt to go to the aquarium with them.

guess which one happened (hint: not the smart idea). they kept getting mad at me because I didn't want to be there, much less take family pictures. at one point we went to eat and across the street from the restaurant was a hockey rink, which my mom told me that if I was a little boy I could just tell people that I got hit in the mouth with a hockey puck. thanks, mom.

so after 10 years, I still stay away from push scooters and Florida. I've only chipped my bonding once after that right before prom, but that should've been a sign (that's a different story for a different time). and after 10 years, my dad still asks me if I want my two front teeth for Christmas. which I actually don't because now it makes for a good story (like all my stories, right? right?)