In a family with three children, the farmer is always the one who does not yet know how to speak. Anyway.
Likewise, a child who does not speak the language is always guilty of a mess in the nursery, scattered sugar, a broken glass and a burnt teapot.
I even feel sorry for him when the girls collude and report in chorus: "Ah-ah! David tore up the book !!!" He could not! The book was on the top shelf! Well, I couldn't, of course, but he has an alibi! At that moment he tore off the doll and tore it into the truck. Boska is big, the truck is small. Therefore, the extreme child puffed like a miniature steam boiler. He puffed so much that he sometimes blew off steam through the back-up valve. As a result, he disdained the laws of physics and shoved something unproductive!
And yesterday the nimble child came with such a happy face that it was immediately clear that he had caused damage to the national economy. And for sure - he is dragging a piece of plastic in his hand. The little bastard managed with his hands, without any tools, to disassemble the switch in the nursery. I, of course, scolded the boy. He roared and ran to complain to Granny. My mother is a soft woman, and steadily otmazyvayutsya grandson. By informing me that I:
a) a heartless monster;
b) was even worse in childhood, picked up the sobbing "monster" and carried it away.
To my indignation, "Why was I worse?" She shouted: "Remember the carpet!"
And I remembered
I was probably twelve years old. And somehow my mother bought a carpet. To the hall. Nice carpet. Coffee with milk! We admired it very much and did not even go to it in slippers. One day, going for a walk, I decided to iron my T-shirt.
I was a very independent child and to the household, like a cat to the litter box, accustomed. But at the same time, lazy and self-confident. Therefore, disregarding the ironer and safety precautions, I began to iron the ironing procedure right on the carpet. Well, he burned it, of course! Semi-synthetics under the influence of high temperature sintered into a powerful crust of dark brown color, exactly in the shape of an iron! Carpet Bermuda triangle where I had to disappear
After 56 panicky attempts to somehow clean it up, I sobbed bitterly. But an inquisitive mind and fear of Lyuli work wonders! If you can't wash it, you have to cut it off! And cut it off!
Small nail scissors rubbed large bloody calluses on my fingers, but the result was! The brownish crust was gone and was replaced by an unkempt triangular bald patch with jagged edges. It was impossible to explain to my mother the appearance of this center of semisynthetic lichen. The perfect pile surface broke off on a bald patch. And with a sigh that it wouldn't get any worse, I went to the store and bought a package of disposable shaving machines. I judiciously decided that if the carpet is SHOVELED and the ENTIRE surface is brought to one level, then there will be no noticeable bald spots! That was the theory
Honestly, it was the most "hellish" occupation in my life. Six square meters of semi-synthetic bristles! 4 hours erased from life. 3 packs of machines "Vest". And the sawn carpet
I admired him like Pygmalion shaved Galatea. It was beautiful - instead of a fluffy, glamorous, fleecy carpet in front of me lay a brutal and clear carpet
The most offensive thing is that my mother figured out me right away. Mom, they are so I carelessly buried some of the shaved pile under the carpet
- Hey! David! Son! Come here! Let's go break the breaker together!