I followed my son to the kindergarten. On the street, the teacher cries to the children - Arseny, Kirill, and well, get out of the bushes. Barbarians don’t put sand on their heads.
I go and think where are all the old good names...Lehi, Sereghi, Sani...
Then I say to my son - Svyatoslav, go faster, or I will be late to work.
And we go home.