Recently my parents told me a very fascinating story about my "dark" past.

I was 3-4 years old. I went to the village with my parents for the New Year. Next to the house there is one only store that has been ruined from old age, and all the rest is a steppe and shy houses.

While my parents were doing homework, I, pulling on my father's wheels and a hat, went for a walk. When my parents grabbed me, I was already sitting in the kitchen and wrapping chocolate snacks on both cheeks. I had all my pockets filled with chocolate. In the 90s, there was no money then, chocolate was an expensive pleasure, we rarely saw it.

Naturally, the interrogation has begun.

“Where did you get it?”

I: “Hosted”

My father was surprised who was so generous and gave me chocolate, and even in such a quantity. Okay, I forgot somehow. A few hours later, the seller came from the same store. He asks if we did not see someone suddenly rotating around the store.

A: “And what happened?”

“The store was robbed!”

My father did not even think of me. I asked him what losses and so on. What the seller replied to him was that chocolate, candy and other sweets were missing.

And again the question - who catered where they live.

As it turned out, during the walk I found myself extremely "doubtful" companions" for about 14 years. They knocked out a small window in the store and pushed me into it.

I am not a law-abiding citizen :)