“I don't want to,” answered Sasha, embarrassed.

- As you know, - I shrugged my shoulders and took the boy by the hand, headed for the crosswalk.

- Olya? - suddenly I heard a familiar voice from behind.

I quickly turned around. Here is a meeting! Lena, a former neighbor, with whom I had lost touch about a year ago, when she got married and moved to a new apartment, was rapidly approaching us.

- Hello, Lena! - I said hello.

- Hello! - Lena smiled broadly, - I really didn’t expect to meet anyone.

“I, too,” I admitted, staring at the pram that the young woman was rolling in front of me. - The whole year has not seen. I didn’t even know that you had a baby.

- Meet, this is Alyosha! - Lena said, pointing at the baby in the wheelchair.

- What a pretty one, - I smiled, considering Lenin's karapuz, - How old is he?

“Five months,” answered Lena.

- So you're on maternity leave now? - I asked.

- Yeah, - Lena nodded, - I settled right after school in a children's hospital, but I had to leave on a maternity leave a year later, because Alyosha was born.

- Exactly, - I remembered, - You studied in medical school. And How? Did you like working in the hospital?

- If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t study for a nurse in three years, - Lena smiled.

Lena began to talk about her work.

“At first, I was in a regular ward for a couple of months,” she said. “And then they were sent to a special unit for newborns and infants.

- With kids probably more difficult? - I asked.

- With older children, too, there is enough trouble, - Lena sighed, - Do you think that only chest pads are wet?

The baby in the pram groaned strangely. Lena leaned over the little boy and pulling the air with her nose, smiled knowingly.

“It looks like he was crap-in,” she told me. “You have to go home and change the diaper.”

Lena looked at Sasha.

- Listen, what is this boy? - She asked.

- This is Sasha, - I smiled, - One mother's friend went to a foreign trip and asked to look after the boy. So I live with them this week.

- Why is he dressed like that? - Olya was surprised, - Not to mention the nipple. It seems the age is not allowed. How old is he? Eight?

- Officially eight, - I said, - But now little Sasha is two years old.

I briefly told Lena about Sasha's punishment.

- So you decided to turn a day into a two-year-old? - Lena laughed, - That's scream.

“I just bought these tights in Detsky Mir,” I explained, “And a bunch of different little things for children: a pair of nipples, a bottle, even a pot.

- Pot? - Laughing surprised Lena, - Well, you give! By the way, your boy does not interfere with him to go. Watch him dance and shift from one foot to the other. Exactly now, blows up his pants. Let him run faster in the bushes.

- Ask for normal and bring in the bushes, - I said, - Well, Sasha? Once again I ask you - do you want for a little?

The boy shook his head.

- You see, - I smiled, - He is so stubborn in me. Will endure until it is written.

“Listen to him more,” Lena laughed. “What, I wonder, did you expect a response from the boy?” For an eight-year-old child to admit to everyone that he wants a little one? Already shy.

“I want to ask for it myself,” I insisted.

- Well, well, - Lena shrugged.

We are back to the interrupted conversation. I still firmly held Sasha by the hand, trying not to pay attention, as he was prancing on the spot and trying to break free.

- Look, Olka! - Lena suddenly shouted, - in fact, he wrote himself!

I turned to the boy. Lena was right - a wet spot was quickly spreading over Sasha's white tights.

- Well, wait! - I said with an imaginary frown, barely holding back so as not to burst out laughing, - It was necessary to really take him to the bushes.

- And I told you what, - said Lena, - It has long been necessary to send there.

I glanced at Sasha's flaming face with shame. “Nothing, you will be a lesson! - I smiled to myself, - It was necessary to go to the pot when you were asked about it "

- Ay-yay-yay, - Lena shook her head disapprovingly, - Such wet tights and still continues to write. Has he suffered from you since morning?

I tried not to smile, watching as the boy was dashing his white tights. "Wow" - I thought, noticing that the wet spot is slowly approaching Sasha's heels.

- Why are you writing? - I pounced on Sasha, - So it was difficult to say what you want for a little?

- Shame on you, - said Lena, - Such a big boy and everyone can see.

- Yes, how big it is! - I laughed, - He should go to the nursery, but not to school!

- In fact, give it to the nursery, - Lena agreed with a smile, - There they will quickly teach him to ask for a pot.

Lena and I laughed together.

- What is blushing? - I again turned to Sasha, - It is a shame for my wet tights? I knew you would wet them.

An eight-year-old boy looked down in embarrassment.

“And all because I didn’t pee before the road,” I said to Lena. “I persuaded five minutes to go to the pot.”

I stooped and unceremoniously felt the boy between my legs.

“Well, I should have described it this way,” I sighed, “Right under Aunt Lena.” This is to her five-month baby forgivable, and you should already know how to ask for a pot.

Satisfied that I taught an eight-year-old boy, I wondered what I should do with him now. “I'll take it home,” I decided, “So, in wet tights.” Of course, the deli was now out of the question.

“I wanted to go to the grocery stores, because I have nothing to eat for lunch,” I sighed, “But where are you now with the boy in this form?”

- Poor, - Lena regretted me, - Is there really nothing left in the refrigerator?

“Absolutely empty,” I said ruefully, “I thought to buy cutlets and other ready-to-cook products in cooking.” Although, frankly, so reluctant to cook.

“Let's go to dinner with me,” Lena invited.

“I don’t even know,” I said, “so uncomfortable about eating you.”

- Do not break, Olka, - said Lena, - I have enough food for everyone. At the same time you dress your little boy dry. Let's go

“Okay,” I smiled, glad how easily the problem with lunch was solved.

The road to Lenin's house went through a small square. I am trying to maintain a calm look, not paying attention to passers-by staring at the boy. Mostly came across young mothers with strollers. Each of them had a knowing smile on her face at the sight of Sasha.

“Look, Zhenya,” one of the moms addressed to a three-year-old son sitting in a wheelchair, “Such a big boy was writing himself. You really won't do that with me? Do you promise to go to the pot in time?

I peeked at the red ... Read more →