I sit in the hairdresser, the child is cut behind the back, the boy cracks on the topic of 'going to school', counted to how many there, said something else... and says:
I know the presidents.
Which ones? The hairdresser clarifies.
I shut my breath in anticipation of the truth from the baby’s mouth.
Obama... Medvedev... Putin... — lists the boy thoroughly... — All, I don’t know more.
No more, the hairdresser is nervous.