One day I turned off from fatigue, my son was a year old with a small one. Lie on the bed, he was playing on the floor next to him, riding a machine with large wheels. I slept and listened. As I heard or felt it, I could be with my eyes closed. I lie. I sleep. He is playing. He is nearby. Everything is OK. He rides the machine on the floor. He is a little silent, but there is something going on there. He rides the machine on the floor again. Now on my back. How pleasant! and Kaif. Riding on the back and shoulder. Again on the floor. Now in the face. Poppy is Katy. Not to open my eyes. Running on the hair. On the cheek. It smells shit. It smells more shit! I open my eyes. He rolled a bunch, crushed with his fingers, crushed on the floor. She rolls on her wheels and then on me, on my face and my hair.