As a child, resting with my grandparents in the village, I stumbled upon a canister of brownies. It smelled good and I decided to try it. As a result, the six-year-old compot enthusiast rained madly, and grandfather and grandmother could not understand what I was poisoned with.



Years later he told them the truth, and it was necessary to see with what solemn appearance the grandfather shouted, "I said it was not I who drank it!"