Once at the parental gathering (the brother was then in fifth grade) read several works. One of them was a little girl - she described how she spent the summer in the village with her grandmother, told about high needs, labor feats and all that, in general, as they say, a five-year-old at four years old.
“But especially I would like to point out Sasha’s work... and here the teacher calls her brother’s surname, it’s definitely the best. Listen, it is just a work of art.
Then only the composition was read.
It told about how he and his grandmother were in the Botanical Garden, about the autumn nature, about how he watched the falling clay leaves, in general, all that. Moreover, the description of the process of falling the leaf extended to virtually the entire composition. But it was done so skillfully that everyone was applauded.
The only one who remained dissatisfied is the father of the above-mentioned girl, some high-ranking nomenclature worker: - We know how these works are written, parents will write, and then la-la-fa - a work of art...
Our father laughed: - You know, we have nothing to do with this work for one simple reason - we were not in Kiev with our wife, we were flying to Leningrad... Otherwise my son's work would be very similar to your daughter's work... )