A quiet morning. I stood brushing my teeth, something remembered a joke from the tower about ready at the concert of Kadysheva. It smiled. I clean further. I presented. I shrinked. I presented again. and charged. She swallowed all the pasta that was in her mouth... In general, the look of the mother who ran to strange sounds is the following picture: The child stands over the scrap, blends there with a blender, cries, cries, splashes... But, shit, laughs!