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Personal Narrative: My Mom's Typology

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My younger brother and I rushed into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed near where my mom was ironing. Instantly the iron dropped on my left arm, leaving an immense scar that resembles an hourglass. I screamed at the top of my lungs so loud that the neighbors next door could hear me. My mom immediately grasped the iron and took it off my arm. She put ointment and ice packs on where the iron fell while soothing me. My mom apologized to me for being the one responsible for all this. I didn 't require an apology because I knew it was my fault running like a maniac in the

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