One day, when I was about three years old, I was shopping at Henry’s with my mom and my uncle. I went to get a cinnamon roll from the bread section with my uncle, while my mom was getting other food. After we got all our groceries, my mom paid for the food. I got in the basket on the little seat.

My mom drove the shopping cart out of the store. It was fun to ride in the cart. It felt bumpy, and fast. My mom put the food in the car. I jumped from the little seat into the big part of the cart.

I fell and missed the cart. I hit my head on the back of the car. There was a little sharp latch sticking on the lock on the back of the trunk of the car. I hit my head on it and it put a tiny hole in my head. My mom saw me bleeding and carried me into the store to get some tissues and called the hospital. My head was hurting.

Then my mom rushed me to the hospital. The doctors numbed my head. It did sting, but I did not cry. The doctors put stitches in my head.

A few weeks later my mom took me back to the doctors, and I got my stitches out.

I learned to never jump without looking where I was going, ever again.