Like most other young children, I had a security blanket. While the security blanket is normally symbolism for another object treasured by children, my security blanket was literally two small blankets. From when I was born to about seven years old, I dragged around the pastel yellow and pink blankets; they were stained and rarely washed. Not only was I constantly dragging the blankets around, but I loved throwing them up in the air and watching them float down to me.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the middle of our family room and looking for something to do. I glanced down and saw the blankets in my hand. This sparked the idea of throwing them into the air. It was all fun and games until the pastel yellow blanket caught on my hand for slightly too long and went too close to the mantel. My mother had a beautiful angel on the mantel until my blanket caught onto her hand. The blanket ended up serving as a broken parachute; they both flew to the ground and the angel shattered. Luckily my mother was not home, and my grandma was watching us. She just gave me a stern look, but helped me clean up the mess. After cleaning up the mess, she informed that I was going to be the one that had to tell Mother. …show more content…
My grandma did not banish me to my bedroom, but I put myself there for the afternoon as a punishment for breaking the angel. I cried on and off wondering if my mother would put me up for adoption. I thought I might want to start packing my bags so that I would not have to do as much