When I was a kid, my mother sometimes instructed my father to pair the child’s legs if she had no time to deal with my treatment. He put the basin in the bath, poured a pot of boiling water, a couple of glasses of water from underneath the crane and went to the couch to read a book, sometimes looking through the open door. While he was going to the post, I quietly got out of the hot pelvis and stood next to me: I can’t see through the board. When his legs were frozen from the iron, he turned them into the water. And one day, my mom got through it... But before I got rid of it, she drove her hand into the water, changed her face and said three words to my dad: “Now you’re a pair... No more executions have happened.