The morning. I gather in the kindergarten and in parallel I gather myself. The daughter closely monitors the process of changing clothes and asks:
“Mommy, why do you have hair?
I answer as easily as possible, I promise that she will soon grow the same.
Can I touch?
Of course not. They are not like you on your head, but tough and cluttered. You will be uncomfortable, you can shake your fingers.
Episode is finished. We have breakfast and go to the entrance. The elevator with us awaits a very nice and far from an old neighbor. The child looks at him and reflects:
You know how unlucky my mom was. Her hair is scratched. You can’t even chew... Poor, right?
Poor Mom is filled with thick paint, the neighbor slips on the wall.
R. S. And I and my neighbor became friends. and then. Her husband helped her repair the cranes. True, my husband then asked me for a long time with suspicion why the neighbor smiles so cleverly to me.