Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Tucked into their beds all the children lay. We all have heard that story. Every Christmas Eve my dad has read that story to me as I tucked myself into bed, and every Christmas night I would shut my eyes knowing in the morning I would wake up and run down the stairs to see a few presents under the tree with my name written on it.
This Christmas was different. I woke up with passion in my eyes. I sprinted downstairs to our gleaming 10' Christmas tree. I realized that I was the last one up and that the whole family was there waiting for me. My eyes sparked with excitement as I approached the Christmas tree.
"Is everyone ready to open up their gifts?" asked my dad.
"You bet." I said.
I saw a present under the tree that was poorly wrapped in green wrapping paper. There was scotch tape dangling off of it and it was slightly ripped in the top right corner. I glanced around and saw my sister mouthing open it to me, so I approached it slowly. Analyzing it in my hands, I slowly open it from the already ripped corner. I was aghast at what I saw. I saw one of my toys that I was in my room the last time I checked. The old London double Decker bus lay before my eyes. I glanced at my sister once again with an uncertain mien.
"What do you think about it?" my sister questioned.
"It's great." I mumbled.
This was certainly not was I wanted for Christmas.
