Waking up to the warmth of my mom’s cooking coming from downstairs, I feel the freezing cold entering from the outdoors. I put on my red Christmas sweater, my white jeans, and I stumble downstairs.

I enter the kitchen to see cheese spread from one side of the counter to the other. Mom’s cheesy potatoes were almost done cooking, she cleans up the kitchen as she waits for my siblings and me to finish getting ready. Mom’s food is done, which means my two brothers, my sister, and my dad better be ready for Grandma’s house. We pile into the car and speed off to see our family.

Once we arrive, we push each other to get out of the car. My siblings and I got out so fast, we left Mom to carry the gifts and food by herself.

“AAAAAASSSSSHHHHHH,” she screams as I am just entering Grandma's house.

I run back to help her, and I was stuck carry my mom’s prized possession: extreme cheesy potatoes.

At dinner time, I’m filling my plate with ham, green beans, cheesy potatoes, and Christmas cookies. I sit down and eat at the kitchen table next to my 4-year-old cousin, Lilly. She plays with her food and swings a big chunk of steaming hot cheesy potatoes onto my arm.

After thirty minutes of help from my mom to calm me down, I went back to finish my plate. Not expecting anything to be too hot, I took a big bite of the potatoes. I burned the inside of my mouth and all of my taste buds.

I now can never eat Mom’s cheesy potatoes hot ever again. I wait for them to become room temperature or even cold. And it is safe to say, they are still just as delicious.