expensive+(correct+one)

My older sister, Megan, and I were sitting on our parents’ bed upstairs while all the adults were downstairs preparing everything for us on Christmas Eve. This was a silly German tradition that my grandma refused to let go of. The kids would go upstairs before we opened presents, and the adults would make sure all the presents were downstairs and ready to be opened. Us kids wait for my grandma to ring a tiny bell and we all were expected to trample down the stairs like a herd of cattle, ready to be fed. //Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!// Megan rolled her eyes and down the stairs we went. We had to look excited as we descended the stairs, for my grandma’s benefit.

Try to focus or elaborate on one culture/ background. The paragraph on your fathers background seems a little irrelevant, and you might want to consider taking that paragraph out. Work on sentence structure; more variety of words (you used begged twice in a row). Use more detailed words that help better describe the event, find creative words, stay away from cliches. More reflection is needed to understand the purpose of the essay. What are you trying to get across? Are you trying to make a point? I would try to focus on the reflection in this story. I think it would really help the reader become more interested in the experience. If the point was that you wore your helmet in the end to please your parents as they have pleased you, or because you want to respect them, and honor their advice because they got you what you wanted, make it more obvious. I would try adding on to the last paragraph. I like that the story is from your childhood, so you might want to describe the differences between you as a child and now days.

The fall before that Christmas, all my friends were getting electric scooters to ride around our suburban neighborhood. It was a typical toy to get in that area, but pretty pricey. I used to beg the neighborhood kids to ride theirs for just a minute and I loved it. Through the fall, I begged my step-mom, Kathy, and my dad for an electric scooter. They would tell me that it was too expensive and to not get my hopes up for it. Kathy is usually the one that makes the final decisions in the house; since my dad just likes to buy everyone everything they want, having grown up with a terrible childhood.

One morning, my dad, Kathy, and I were sitting on the front porch, talking about Christmas gift ideas for my sister. Kasey, our Chow pup was laying down beside me while I scratched behind her ear. Kathy was talking about getting Megan a gift card to Sheetz, so that she’d have gas for a while and would stop asking them for gas money. And this is where I came in: “Have you guys talked about what you’re getting me for Christmas?” Kasey lifted her head to place it in my lap, eyes closing as she drifted off to sleep. “We already have most of your gifts.” Kathy said tersely, her lips tight as she took a sip of her coffee. She knew what was coming. My dad just sat back and looked over the yard. This is when Kasey chose to wander off into the front yard and sniff around for something interesting. “Well… have you gotten my big gift yet? Because I really want an electric scooter. Everyone has one and I’ll be very, very careful, I promise. I’ll even make sure I wear a helmet every time! “ I spoke extremely fast to get in as many words as I could before she denied my request, which I knew she would. But I still had a little hope. “You’re not getting an electric scooter. It’s too expensive. And I don’t want to hear you mention it one more time, to anyone. Ask again and you’re not getting anything for Christmas. Got it?” Oh, I definitely got it. When Kathy said no that meant no. And the look on my dad’s face assured that I better not ask again. But, I could tell he was pained to not get his pumpkin what she wanted for Christmas.

My dad grew up in a foster home in Israel. His father was abusive towards his mom, my grandma, and she fled to America to save herself and start a new life, leaving my dad and uncle in Israel to fend for themselves in foster homes. They were in and out of all different foster homes, and their father also taking them out, just to throw them back in when he realized he couldn’t handle the burden of children. Once my grandma had gotten her feet under her, she flew my dad over from Israel and left my uncle over in Israel, along with her abusive husband. They started a new life in America together and, soon, my dad learned the English language and was soon accustomed to his new lifestyle. All through his childhood, he never had the nice things other kids had, as much as he wanted them. So, he always wanted to get me, his only child, everything in the world she wanted. But, some of the things I wanted were out of his price range and Kathy made sure to ground him to reality.

Megan and I walked into the living room, our eyes glowing at all the presents with our names on them. Our family likes to open presents one at a time in a circle, so everyone can see what everyone got and who gave the best gifts. Usually, the last few gifts consisted of our big gift for the holiday. Every year, each person would get a big gift that they really wanted. Since I knew I wasn’t getting an electric scooter, I had no clue what my big gift could’ve been. We finished up gifts and I still hadn’t gotten my big gift yet. I was sitting on the couch, pretty bummed out, when my dad spoke up. “I think there’s another gift in the tree somewhere. I see it, it’s like a small box.” I went to the tree to retrieve it, assuming it was a piece of jewelry or something for my grandma or Kathy. But, it said “To: Maya, From: Kathy and Dad.” It was a small box, so I wasn’t expecting much. I sat down on the couch and opened the box. Inside was a weirdly shaped key. “You got me a house key for Christmas?” Everyone started laughing, even my sister. I looked over to her and gave her a questioning look; sure that she knew what this gift meant. Megan shrugged her shoulders and I glanced over to my dad. “Why don’t you walk around the house and see where it goes to.” So, I did just that. I stood up and I had only walked behind the couch before I screamed at the top of my lungs: “Oh my god! I got an electric scooter!” At this point, all hope of me acting polite around the family was lost. I began frantically running through the house, my eyes wild and excited. I swung open the door of the garage and saw nothing. “Check upstairs!” My dad yelled from the living room and I could hear his voice was choked. He was crying, although trying to hide it. I tore up the stairs and close behind me was Megan, then my dad, and the rest of the family. I was about to go into my room before she pushed me to keep walking to her room. I open the door and there it is. A shiny, red electric scooter with a large red bow on it smiled at me, winking in the light. Tears began to flow from my eyes, happy tears, of course. And, behind me, my dad was crying. Right after we ate dessert, I took my scooter for a ride. And I made sure to wear my helmet.