A friend told me from the first person.
I go on the street with my daughter Olya (4 years old). At the crossroads, a police officer of very impressive sizes (thick):
“Mom, look what a fat policeman is,” Olya cries very loudly.
The policeman hears everything, the passers look, turn around.
“Still, he’s in the armor,” I answered to his daughter.
The policeman demonstrately turns his back to us.
Olga cried out loudly, surprised:
“Mom, look, he has a puppy in his armor.