I found copies of the story below when I was cleaning out my dad’s house last year. (Describing him as a “hoarder” is understatement.) I think I wrote it in sixth grade or so.
My family was relatively poor when I was a kid—welfare, food stamps, hand-me-down clothing, and chewed-up or broken toys from the Salvation Army were the norm. That wasn’t unusual in my neighborhood. But I was painfully aware from the commercials on TV and the stories from classmates that this was not how some kids lived, and I was envious. So, so envious. I dreamt of unwrapping the most incredible gifts on Christmas morning: remote-controlled cars, Rubik’s Cubes, Easy Bake Ovens, cameras, Lego space sets, Power Wheels…Omg, Power Wheels! I’d be the most stuntin’ Power Wheels driver EVER. I’d win Power Wheels competitions! Everyone would admire my amazing Power Wheels skills. If only I had a Power Wheels truck, I knew my life would be THE BEST. Such were my covetous Walter Mitty dreams. Continue reading “Grade School Story: “The Boy that Santa Forgot””