Rus Articles Journal

Three monologues about summer of

Part one. The ideal summer according to mother

“To what teaches

you summer?“ - I asked the baby.
“I do not know, mother, give - you to me better to peas“.
And the gangster continued,
hrumky by a piece of carrot,
That all summer would lie
up a paunch on a mat.
“So, the girlfriend, is no good, we with you Will study!“
we Will run on pools,
bruises then to treat,
On a trampoline to jump amicably
and from plastic to mold.
with you we will master the Scooter,
we will sing a lot of songs,
By a ship by the sea
we will go. Or we will go.
We will sew with you a hat
and a cheerful sundress,
To a zoo with you we will go
and to far Magadan.
the Daughter, having listened to this nonsense, Declared:“ I am 5 years old!
we will leave the Zoo, all right,
interestingly as there live
Tigers, wolves, monkeys,
everyone animal lyud there. Well, give we will go to Moscow,
I still there was not,
And at the sea rather,
that`s all my affairs.
Here and the summer flew by,
the nose is peeled, sunbathed,
For study September is,
needs summer to me for affairs!“

Part second. The book of complaints

it is heavy to h2 to live on light to our Daisy:
Here go all summer, as on a huge thread.
do not run There - you will fall,
to yourself you rasshibt the Forehead,
On the scooter do not drive,
I Go to a floor do not drop.
do not rub off a bench - dirty,
do not release a hand - dangerously. In water,
Will snatch suddenly you for an ear,
On the sun do not sit much,
And in general, to have a sleep go.
is shorter, not summer, but continuous grief,
When I will get rid of mother?

Part third. Reflections about summer

to Sege and thoughtfully I gnaw a pencil tip... Stop, I sit in front of the computer, and just I hollow on keys, trying to collect thoughts in a heap. What it was, our summer what it taught me to? I do not know, probably, to optimism, patience and understanding, more tolerant attitude towards those who near me. Looking back at the fidgets sleeping a row - little girls, I understand how I strongly love them, and heart overflows with tenderness. And it is unimportant that quite recently I “lowered on them Polkan“, I am tired too.

It was my first summer from the moment of the birth of the senior daughter, chance to have a rest, leave the city which bothered with order. Just an opportunity to go to Moscow turned up, and, having left the younger daughter on care of the grandmother, fast packed things, and we with Margarita left in the known direction. In Moscow I sacredly fulfilled a parental duty, dragging loved chadushko on exhibitions, in a zoo, circus, and other interesting places. A day before departure to put burst into tears: “And where Moscow?“ In vain I tried to overpersuade the child that here it, Moscow. Proofs were necessary. Everything cleared up quickly enough, we forgot to go on Red Square without which, in understanding of the child, there cannot be Moscow. Yes, My God, del - that... Area so area. By the way, it did not make impression on us and to put disappointedly declared:“ And I waited for bigger, we will go though in shop we descend“.

Then we went with the father to the city of Volgodonsk. Ritka peeped from delight, driving on the scooter, digging in sand on the beach, few times even caught a bucket from water a frog. And these huge trampolines from which it is possible, having closed eyes from delight and horror, to roll down down. Fountains, roses around, huge “herds“ of bugs - firemen on the earth and even the viper floating on the river at the coast. Plus to everything an oblezshy nose and shoulders which sunbathed to blackness. Tours of the Rostov theater, Buratino, ice cream in kilograms, and the most important, it is not necessary to go to kindergarten. The room of laughter in park of which we got out, holding stomachs. Hand-made articles from plasticine, mountains of toys, balloons and iridescent bubbles. Well, continuous joyful memoirs, if any “but“...

A day before departure home out of the blue we broke a knee... And let for someone it is a trifle, for us it became the tragedy. Just jumping as the monkey the child shouted as herd of bisons. Not for nothing, probably, we gave Rita on national singing, lungs at the child are developed perfectly, and this cry scared away all crows in a kilometer radius. I do not know whether heard Volgodonsk still sometime such groan, but it was something. Naturally, we with the husband rushed on help to the child, assessing the physical damage caused to a young organism. A graze, it is not deadly, it`s nothing, but not to pass for stale and cruel parents, we, having like, all gravity of the moment, began to rush about in search of a drugstore. While I went behind an adhesive plaster and other medicines, the beloved spouse, examining the beaten daughter`s knee, itself managed nearly to fail in a faint. Picture: my treasures in an embrace on a bench sit and both groan for horror. Hardly constraining laughter, having rendered at last to “the fighter with a wound“ the help, having set up it on itself as a potato bag, having taken the pale spouse by an arm, I trudged home. And tomorrow we already quietly drove on the scooter and shouted: “Mothers, watch what I hardy, with a change go“. And I just smiled in reply.

So, this small incident taught me to belong quietly to what was yesterday, and childly to laugh, wiping tears from eyelashes. Probably, this summer gave me the chance to feel the child. The happy small child with the sorrows and pleasures.