I came home and saw my son with painted eyes, in his wife’s boots and in her shirt. On his head was strangely bound her board cloth, and in his hands a gun. I was a little frightened by this appearance, and then the son also told us and his wife that he wanted to grow his hair so that he would have a haircut. At that time I felt very bad. He is only eight years old, and so is it. Where and what we missed in his education. And then he asked me and his wife, “Well, am I like Jack the Sparrow?” Fououououououh. I have never experienced such relief before.)