We did not live richly. The father is an alcoholic, did not help from the word at all. Mom is a typist (those who type on a typewriter) in a construction company. I dragged 2 children for one small salary. At night she sculpted pasties for a private owner in order to get at least some additional income.
Once, having received a salary, I decided to please my children and bought them an imported chocolate bar. Then such people just started to appear in our city, and maybe not only. But this was the first for me and my sister!
It was amazing! Rustling wrapper, smell. We took the ruler and, carefully, with trepidation, to be as fair as possible, divided it equally. Then we sat on the bed and slowly ate the chocolate layer by layer. Chocolate. Nougat. Peanut. And at the same time they looked at each other, trying to get pleasure not only from their half, but also watching the absorption of the second.
When the chocolate ran out, I ran to the kitchen and with delight - "Mom! It was so delicious." Turning around, my mother said - "Have you already eaten? But the mother was not allowed to try."
At that moment it felt like a bucket of water had been poured over me. I turned around. And he left the kitchen. I was 4 years old
I also have a story about foreign objects in the nose. I was about five years old. Parents (what to take from them, young people!) Went to the evening screening at the cinema. And I was left under the supervision of my grandfather. grandfather was never bored! He drove me on a Zhiguli with a breeze, then there were still no boosters and child seats, so you could stand right behind the driver's seat and dashingly pretend that the driver is me. The main condition is not to touch the grandfather while driving. it was also great when my grandfather offered to draw. He was a veterinarian, so he painted pigs, horned cows, funny bagel-tailed dogs and horses for me. And at the end he would definitely paint on a bunch of animals. "So that it was like in life, my fish," - said the grandfather. so, evening, we are alone with my grandfather. This time it was expected to watch the film "Octopus" about the Italian mafia and the brave comrade Corrado Catani. Neither grandmother nor mother would have allowed such entertainment for a five-year-old girl, but I won't give up to grandpa. The hall is dark, the TV is shining blue. Cozy. We look. The mafia shoots, the music sounds tragic. At some point, I noticed a vase of willow on the coffee table next to the armchair. Ha, well, what a wonderful bouquet, with a bunch of little fuzzies. And so, parallel to the film, the game of hamsters began. The hamsters, pinched off from the willow, crawled merrily on the arm of the chair, and then one of them hid from his comrades in my nose. Of course, he was solidly pushed there with my own finger, but deeper, so that they would definitely not be found. When I got tired of playing, I realized that the fluffy willow had slipped into my nose perfectly, but she didn’t want to get out against the grain. Then my grandfather had to surrender. At first, the grandfather tried to rectify the situation on his own. To do this, he took out a giant tweezers. Naturally, I started screaming wildly, because the nose is small, and the tweezers are frighteningly large. - Where, well, where did you put it? Into the nasopharynx? Maybe you swallowed? - Noooooo, not in any throat, but in noooooooos. (in terminology we did not agree, we had to argue a little about where it is - the nasopharynx. Oh, these veterinarians!) In the end, we had to resort to the help of third parties. An ambulance was called, and we dashingly drove to the emergency room of the children's hospital. I remember that everything looked very gloomy, like in horror movies: tiles on the walls, dim light, giant doctors. I was held by five: two nurses, two doctors from the waiting room and my grandfather. And the huge surgeon was poking his nose with something shiny. I hope I screamed loudly enough for the walls of the hospital to remember me. How happily ended this verbal story. My mother was less fortunate when she was a girl. She stuck a plum bone into her nose. Therefore, her nasal septum remained curved for the rest of her life. The younger brother used to stick a button and a Lego piece into his nose. Now I live and hope that my children will not accept this baton of family stupidity.
Recently, Pikabu has been swept by a wave of the 90s - everyone remembers how difficult and difficult life was at that time. Many people remember with swear words, negativity and whining on a mountain of problems - and how else can these times be remembered. The nineties were really difficult, but let me recall the war and the post-war forties ... There are practically no people left who can describe those distant and terrible events.
Even today, life is no easier for many! Each time that we live is interesting in its own way, and one can relate to the past in different ways, as well as remember it. Even the most prosperous periods in the life of a country sometimes turn out to be very difficult for many of us, despite the many seemingly positive moments.
In today's crazy pace of life, you want so much more positive! What was the most positive and carefree time that any of us have had? Childhood, of course!
What memories did each of you have the very first and what are they connected with? I now sometimes ask this question to my grown-up children. Each has their own, but are usually associated with very striking events that are out of the ordinary life.