On my birthday, my grandfather’s wife, my grandmother, ultimately said, “Let’s get no more! In the name of your grandson’s childhood!!“”
The grandfather, surprisingly, easily agreed, poured out the remaining half of the bottle with white, and then took it out of the house and finally started a bottle to drink for my eighteen, when "childhood will end."
My eighteen years we met without my grandfather - did not live, although later one day my grandmother remembered that some rituals had taken place, only where and what - did not know.

And here I am under a half-cake, a day ago I found this bottle, with "the same" cognac, breaking the sludge in the bar in the country. Printed letters touchingly displayed on the label "48th birthday, grandchildren!". A little mistaken grandfather, one drawing, but how wonderfully guessed - in a week "the same" birthday!