“You do what you want, and I went skiing,” said the father and went.
to the door.
to stand! be afraid! Mother said, “Take your son with you, then go!”
And in the snow! - said the five-year-old son, postponed the joystick from
The game console "Dendy", and the machines on the TV screen froze. – s
Tough to ride.
“Five minutes for fees,” said the father, “and once you have a snowcoat, give it.
I have a rope and a belt.
Do you take soap in the bathroom? My mother pleased me,
Take a belt and a rope.
- You won't wait, - replied the father, - to the hills through the field and the forest five.
The kilometers. Not to pull the snow on the hill? I am attached to the belt.
I will wear and pull on the back of the trailer with a cranky move.
- You take him whatever you want, - confirmed the mother's thought, - only the son does not.
to lose. Otherwise I won’t let you go home.
“I will not lose it,” said the father confidently, “I need it myself more: we are in
The dancers will play tonight.

To the place where it was possible to go skiing, arrived without adventures.
With one hand, the father dragged the skies, holding them in a special professional way, the other - a rope with a snowmobile. After crossing the last street separating the city from the field, the father tied the rope to the belt, put on a belt, got up on skies and went. Simultaneous one-step running.
A good skier develops quite decent speed. My dad was a good skier. Pulling the snowmobile was not much more difficult than pulling the usual BI-6.
Dad pulled up. The son ran, talking from behind, like a water skier behind a boat.
The meeting people pointed to them with their fingers and ski sticks. The couple looked beautiful. Five passed in fifteen minutes. In front of it was already seen the slope of the first oak, - the same "hills" from which it was to ride.
“I will not brake,” he thought, “I will jump before I go down.
I will land on the hill. It was not bad once.
On the right were some fresh pins. Another six meters, and Dad jumped, and then the surprises began. The devil's rope stretched and torn him back.
When a good person in a good movie shoots a bad person from a jet grenade, a bad person is quickly taken in an unknown direction. Dad got even faster and more familiar.
He was thrown up and carried back. Have you seen the wedding doll on the hood? Have you seen the tea on the curtain of Mhatt? If they both put on skies, wrap ski sticks in their wings and throw their backs forward to the devil’s mother in the air, it will be like that.
A doll has no wings. Give the doll wings!
Dad didn’t fly long. Even in the middle of the flight, he realized that he would not die: before death, before his eyes all life flashes, and before his eyes were skies. He dropped the sticks, managing to release his brushes from his belts. Watching the skies was boring, Dad closed his eyes and nodded on his back. The snow was dotted, but still deep and not very hard.
Dad was lying on his back in the posture of the same doll with the hood, and he felt skis kicking on his legs from the wind. He opened his eyes. Through the skies it was visible that a couple of adults and three children were bowing over him.
Dad, what are you lying for? Asked a child, being a son of
I broke my nose and lip, and proudly, and I broke my nose to blood!
Are you whole? A man of my father’s age asked.
Stretching his hand to help him get up, he could get you to the hospital.
Should I?
The Uncle! A 7-year-old boy broke a man, how beautiful you are.
Are you jumping? Can you teach?
“No, boy,” replied the father to the last question and stood up, “no.”
I will learn. This is our family kung fu. It is only transmitted from father to son.
After spotting his son, looking at the skies, the father found a snowmobile stuck between two pine pines.
“Son,” the father asked, “have you seen these pins?” Why invaded?
“Daddy,” replied the son, whispering with his broken nose, “if you get into “Dendy.”
A machine at an obstacle, it flies away. Here is it, son.
I pulled my shoe, no. Do you understand? Let us ride from the mountain.
After evaluating the harmfulness of computer games in a few maternal words, the father pulled off the attachments and led his son to ride from the hills.
They easily escaped. The speed of twenty kilometers per hour, of course, is small, but dangerous. Even though they both got more from their mom in the evening than from speed.
Nineteen years have passed. My son is twenty-four, and I have no time to go so far.