When my grandmother brought my father from the nursery, his brother was 4 years old, and they lived in the village. Naturally, the farm-garden house required no less care than a child, so going to feed the cow, the grandmother said:

“Sasha, look at Misha so she doesn’t cry.

She sits down, pains herself calmly, and sees Sasha walking in the yard. She is him:

Don’t you look at Miley? Suddenly he is crying?

“No, Mom, he won’t cry anymore.

Why is?

He cried and I covered him with a pillow. He will not cry anymore. never ever.

As it follows from the fact that I am writing this post, the pillow was removed.