Children are something.
I stood at the stop, two grandmothers and a three-year-old granddaughter approach. From the conversation, I realized that she had met another grandmother at the train station. Yes, coming from Ukraine, because it is loud, conversational and with a bright accent. breaks without rest, and about the weather, and about the clothes, and how in the train dulo, and that the gifts did not bring, because the present itself, etc. TD and TD. And all this trep she intersect with questions to her granddaughter, and not a single fig listening to the answers.
Finally, the grandmother comes out and asks the last question:
Tell me, how do you go to the garden?
“How, how,” replies the darkness. With feet!