Saturday morning

Ugh! As much as I love Drake’s music, I hate the fact that it's waking me up this at seven in the morning on a Saturday. Not only is it super early, but it's the last weekend of my summer vacation. I need all the rest that I can get at a time like this. If not, then I'm going to be falling asleep in all my morning classes, and I can't have that. 　　I groan loudly as I slap my palm on the off button and make my way out of the bed. I’m so tired that I feel like I’m about to fall out on my carpet at

he made jokes, played around, and taught me life lessons. Reeling in fishes was in accomplishment for me and my grandfather even if it was just one we found it as if we did something great together. I remember sitting in the boat with him one Saturday morning as we were awaiting to catch a fish the weather was chilly 55 degrees as I recall. He was wearing his same old fishing gear *black rain boats with old 49ers hat and a white tee shirt with

live in babysitter. As an example, every Saturday morning your child wakes up at 6:00 A.M. Since it is your day off you want to sleep in. So you plop your child in front of the television with a bowl of cereal and the Saturday morning cartoons and you go back to bed. This scenario happens in countless homes across the country. But do you really know what your child is watching or what they are doing? But sadly this doesn't just happen on Saturday morning. It happens in our homes every single

man was shown killing himself on 'live' TV during the Saturday morning cartoon time slot. Viewers in Los Angeles, California, were shocked badly when the routine practice of interrupting TV programs to televise police car chases took an ugly turn. The man who was being chased set himself and his dog on fire, then shot himself in the head. And all this was broadcast 'live' to many homes in LA, where children were watching their Saturday morning cartoons (Death in the mass media). As expected, this

I vividly recall asking my mother why her waistline was steadily expanding. She took my hand, placed it on her stomach, and said, “Meet your baby sister!” I was six years old and family life had always been focused on me and my needs. Suddenly, I felt uncertain about my future. How would my life change? Would my new sister and I like each other? My father assured me that I would be a kind, loving brother, but I was not so sure! Hours after Lauren’s birth, on a snowy February day, my dad took me to

farmer that we rented the farm from had a son, his name was Randy. Randy and I became close friends. We used to play in the gain bins behind his house. The bins were about twenty feet tall twelve feet in diameter and about half full of corn. One Saturday morning Randy and I climbed up the outside of the grain bin. Randy jumped in and sank to the bottom. I could not see him. I started yelling his name. He did not answer. I climbed down the ladder and opened the hatch to the grain bin. Corn blasted everywhere

Ball is Life It was a nice summer morning, the birds were chirping, sun was rising and I was ready to play some basketball. I was on an AAU basketball team along with 8 other guys my age. Our tournament was right here held in West Fargo. We had a total of 3 games today. Two of the games went good, the other one not so well. One of these games I will always remember because of my performance. When I woke up this early Saturday morning I was so pumped for my games. For once I was the first person

he made jokes, played around, and taught me life lessons. Reeling in fishes was an accomplishment for me and my grandfather even if it was just one, we found it as if we did something great together. I remember sitting in the boat with him one Saturday morning as we were waiting to catch a fish. The weather was chilly 55 degrees as I recall. He was wearing his same old fishing gear [black rain boots with old 49ers hat and a white tee shirt with dark blue pants]. The sun was barely rising and I felt

Four years old is by far one of the most interesting points of existence in the human lifetime. By four years into life, most have hopefully completed their transition out of infancy and toddlerhood and are now on their way to becoming fully functioning children. Despite this sudden growth in cognitive ability, however, most memories from this time period — in my personal experience — are foggy and difficult to recall. As a result, my only methods of journeying back to this era of my life are through

The Bright Spot in My Day One morning bright and early, I went to the nursing home near my home to do a community service project. The plan was for me to meet Ms. Clara Mae who is a resident there. My expectations for the day were not the best, I dreaded the smell of being in a nursing home. As I approached room 406, I noticed a faint lemon smell that floated around the hall. I cautiously tapped on her wooden door and noticed a festive, fall wreath hanging crookedly by her mailbox. “Ms