In the early 90s, my father had a tradition at work: to celebrate various events abundantly (vacation, coming from vacation, etc.).) and not where it got, but someone at home from the brigade (6-8 people) Once noted with us, very already noted and approached my younger sister (she was somewhere 2-3 years old): tell a poem about Ivan Cousin - a large corn, put on the refrigerator and persuaded, the child did not tolerate it for a long time. There was only one word: Hate! The men swallowed it and within a minute they left. My sister is 21 years old and she can also write a single word.