After reading stories about grandparents, I remembered a small episode from my childhood. I was six years. It was summer, I stayed with my grandmother in the Tula region. And my grandmother once said to me, “Do you want us to ride a bus on the field, a half-bump?”

I must say that I was still a hunter. I loved to catch all sorts of little things – bats, strawberries, frogs and goats, and at home in the bank I lived a fat such a goat.

Here is such an attractive offer! Ride the bus, walk the field, and half the frogs with your grandmother!

Of course I agreed.

A hot summer day. My grandmother and I went on an old bus for an hour. Then we go along the road through the field under the burning sun.

And then I see her.

The potato...

“You start from here, and I’ll meet you from there” – with these words I was given a cage and I was sent to the potato – collecting Colorado frogs.

During the time I spent there, I hated the bugs. I hate potatoes. I hate everything in the world. I have never felt so brutally deceived.

But my grandmother kept the word – we caught the frogs.