Grandma is resting
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
Little Galinka came home from school. She opened the door and wanted to say something cheerfully to her mother. But mom threatened Galinka with her finger and whispered:
- Quiet, Galinka, grandma is resting. I didn’t sleep the whole night, my heart hurt.
Galinka quietly walked up to the table and put down her briefcase. I had lunch and sat down to study homework. He reads the book quietly, to himself, so as not to wake up his grandmother.
The door opened and Olya, Galinka’s friend, came. She said loudly:
- Galinka, listen...
Galinka shook her finger at her, like a mother, and whispered:
- Quiet, Olya, grandma is resting. She didn’t sleep the whole night, her heart ached.
The girls sat down at the table and looked at the drawings.
And two tears rolled out from grandma’s closed eyes.
When the grandmother stood up, Galinka asked:
- Grandma, why did you cry in your sleep?
Grandmother smiled and kissed Galinka. Joy shone in her eyes.
For children of primary and secondary school age 7-13 years old
Astrid Lindgren
- “We are all from Bullerby”;
- “On the Island of Saltrock”;
- "Pippi Longstocking";
- “The Lionheart Brothers” - all A. Lindgren’s books are permeated by a friendly atmosphere of mutual understanding between children and adults.
Pamella Travers
- “Mary Poppins” is a fabulous story about the cheerful Banks family: mom, dad, five children and their amazing nanny, who teach each other mutual assistance, respect and love.
Tove Jansson
- "Tales of the Moomins" - a family of fairy-tale creatures, it turns out, solves the same problems as the families of ordinary people.
Judy Bloom
- “Ordinary Peter, or You Can’t Choose Younger Brothers” is a story about the birth of a youngest child in a family, full of humor and kindness.
Lydia Charskaya
- "Notes of a little schoolgirl."
Valentina Oseeva
- "Dinka."
J.m. Barry
- "Peter Pan and Wendy."
Mikhail Zoshchenko
- "Lelya and Minka."
Evgeny Schwartz
- "The Adventures of Shura and Marusya."
Arkady Gaidar
- "Chuk and Gek."
Ian Larry
- "The extraordinary adventures of Karik and Valya."
Eduard Uspensky
- "Uncle Fyodor, dog and cat."
Lev Kassil:
- "Conduit and Schwambrania". A fascinating book about children of the 20s of the last century, their hobbies, creativity, relationships with parents.
Big birch
N. M. Artyukhova
Mom stood in the kitchen with a towel on her shoulder, drying the last cup. Suddenly Gleb’s frightened face appeared at the window.
- Aunt Zina! Aunt Zina! - he shouted. - Your Alyoshka has gone crazy!
- Zinaida Lvovna! — Volodya looked out the other window. - Your Alyoshka climbed a big birch tree!
- After all, he can break loose! - Gleb continued in a tearful voice. - And it will break...
The cup slipped out of my mother’s hands and fell to the floor with a clatter.
- Shattered! - Gleb finished, looking with horror at the white shards.
Mom ran out onto the terrace and went to the gate:
- Where is he?
- Yes, here, on the birch tree!
Mom looked at the white trunk, at the place where it split in two. Alyosha was not there.
- Stupid jokes, guys! - she said and walked towards the house.
- No, we’re telling the truth! - Gleb shouted. - He is there, at the very top! Where the branches are!
Mom finally understood where to look. She saw Alyosha. She measured with her eyes the distance from its branch to the ground, and her face became almost as white as this smooth birch trunk.
- Crazy! - Gleb repeated.
- Shut up! - Mom said quietly and very sternly. - Both of you go home and sit there.
She approached the tree.
“Well, Alyosha,” she said, “are you doing well?”
Alyosha was surprised that his mother was not angry and spoke in such a calm, gentle voice.
“It’s good here,” he said. “But I’m very hot, mommy.”
“It’s nothing,” said mom, “sit down, rest a little and start going down.” Just don't rush. Little by little... Have you rested? - she asked after a minute.
- I rested.
- Well then, come down.
Alyosha, holding onto a branch, was looking for somewhere to put his foot. At this time, an unfamiliar fat summer resident appeared on the path. He heard voices, looked up and shouted fearfully and angrily:
“Where have you gone, you worthless boy!” Get down now!
Alyosha shuddered and, without calculating the movement, put his foot on a dry twig. The twig crunched and rustled down to my mother's feet.
“Not like that,” said mom. — Stand on the next branch.
Then she turned to the summer resident:
- Don't worry, please, he can climb trees very well. He's great for me!
The small, light figure of Alyosha slowly descended. It was easier to climb up. Alyosha is tired. But his mother stood below, giving him advice, speaking kind, encouraging words. The earth was getting closer and shrinking. Now neither the field beyond the ravine nor the factory chimney is visible. Alyosha reached the fork.
“Take a break,” said mom. - Well done! Well, now put your foot on this branch... No, not there, that one is dry, here, to the right... Well, well, don’t rush.
The ground was very close. Alyosha hung in his arms, stretched out and jumped onto the high stump from which he began his journey.
The fat, unfamiliar summer resident grinned, shook his head and said:
- Oh well! You will be a parachutist!
And mom grabbed her thin, tanned, scratched legs and shouted:
- Alyoshka, promise me that you will never, never climb so high again!
She quickly walked towards the house. Volodya and Gleb were standing on the terrace. Mom ran past them, through the garden, to the ravine. She sat down in the grass and covered her face with a scarf. Alyosha followed her, embarrassed and confused. He sat down next to her on the slope of a ravine, took her hands, stroked her hair and said:
- Well, mommy, well, calm down... I won’t be so high! Well, calm down!
It was the first time he saw his mother cry.
- Well, look what kind of guest we have! - Dad called me loudly, when I was still fumbling with sandals in the corridor, having come from the street.
For 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 grades
The most precious thing we have is our family. She may be far from ideal, because she is not chosen, but still be our most valuable treasure.
So, parts of my treasure were mom and dad, as well as little Martin, our hamster. But recently our family has added one more person - my younger brother Simon. I always approach him with amazement and wild interest and we play for several hours, not noticing the time.
My mother works as a teacher, she loves children very much. The class is always crazy about her. Mom knows how to lure children into even the most boring lesson, she can joke and laugh with everyone, but at the same time she always keeps discipline under control. Looking at her, I can get along with Simon without any problems and understand without words why he is capricious.
Dad works as a builder and constructs huge buildings that take your breath away. I once visited him at a construction site. Then they put on a protective helmet and vest for my safety. I asked to go to the very top of the building and then I froze in amazement when I saw the beautiful view of our city from above. When I grow up, I want to be like my dad. He always supports us and protects us from problems, and also pampers us with treats, although his mother sometimes forbids him to do this.
From birth, Simon was restless and required constant supervision, and I helped my mother with this. Once he almost squeezed Martin in his hands when he wanted to play with him. It's good that I saw it in time. Now he has grown a little and it has become much more interesting for me to spend time with him playing with cars and construction sets.
A word about Martin, he appeared with us shortly before Simon. You should see how he runs around the house in a special ball for hamsters, sometimes we don’t have time to keep an eye on him. When he sleeps, he looks like a little fluffy ball.
Our family has an unspoken rule - we spend every Sunday together. This could be a walk somewhere around the city, or vice versa - outside the city, it could be a trip to the cinema together, or home gatherings with treats and board games. Also, the support of each family member in difficult times is obvious. Together we experience moments of joy and sadness for each of us.
But things are not always so rosy. Sometimes quarrels run between us, which are resolved only by good and sincere conversations, and then by the strongest hugs.
During this time, we learned not only to resolve conflicts, but also became closer to each other. We can talk about anything and will always stand up for each other. After all, family is the most expensive treasure that cannot be bought for any money in the world.
All good people are one family
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
In the second grade there was a drawing lesson. The children drew a swallow.
Suddenly someone knocked on the door. The teacher opened the door and saw a tear-stained woman - the mother of little white-haired, blue-eyed Natasha.
“I ask you,” the mother turned to the teacher, “to let Natasha go.” Grandmother died.
The teacher walked up to the table and said quietly:
- Children, great grief has come. Natasha's grandmother died. Natasha turned pale. Her eyes filled with tears. She leaned on her desk and cried quietly.
- Go home, Natasha. Mom came for you.
– While the girl was getting ready to go home, the teacher said:
“We won’t have lessons today either.” After all, there is great grief in our family.
– This is in Natasha’s family? – asked Kolya.
“No, in our human family,” the teacher explained. - All good people are one family. And if someone in our family died, we were orphaned.
Birthday lunch
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
Nina has a large family: mother, father, two brothers, two sisters, grandmother.
Nina is the smallest: she is nine years old. Grandmother is the eldest; she is eighty-two years old.
When the family is having dinner, grandma's hand trembles. Everyone is used to it and tries not to notice.
If someone looks at grandma’s hand and thinks: why is it trembling? – her hand trembles even more. The grandmother is carrying a spoon - the spoon is shaking, droplets are dripping onto the table.
Nina's birthday is coming soon. Mother said that there would be lunch on her name day. She and her grandmother will bake a big sweet pie. Let Nina invite her friends.
Guests arrived. Mom sets the table with a white tablecloth. Nina thought: Grandma will sit down at the table, and her hand will tremble. Your friends will laugh and tell everyone at school.
Nina said quietly to her mother:
- Mom, don’t let grandma sit at the table today...
- Why? - Mom was surprised.
- Her hand is shaking... It’s dripping on the table...
Mom turned pale. Without saying a word, she took the white tablecloth off the table and hid it in the closet.
Mom sat silently for a long time, then said:
- Our grandmother is sick today. There will be no birthday dinner.
Happy birthday to you, Nina. My wish for you: be a real person.
Children's poems about family
Hello, dear reader of the School of Crafts.
The administration of the site “shkolapodelok.ru”, represented by the Yargunin family, cordially congratulates you on the holiday - International Family Day.
We all know that the family is a unit of society, which was, is and will be an indicator of the development of society and the state as a whole.
The well-being of families determines the healthy development of the country. And this is the health of the nation, low crime, demographic and economic growth, etc.
In honor of this date, we decided... to collect and publish poems dedicated to the family. On our blog we have already published children's poems about mother, father, grandparents, and also about daughter.
Now it's time to combine all these topics into one - family.
Dedicated to all families of the planet:
How Vasilko was born
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
- Children, today is the birthday of your friend Vasilka. Today you, Vasilko, turn eight years old. Congratulations on your birthday. I’ll tell you, children, how Vasilko was born.
Vasilko was not yet in the world, his father worked as a tractor driver, and his mother worked in the silkworm production department.
The tractor driver's young wife was preparing to become a mother. In the evening, the young husband got ready to take his wife to the maternity hospital tomorrow.
At night a snowstorm broke out, a lot of snow fell, and the roads were covered with snowdrifts. The car could not move, and there was no way to postpone the trip, the young woman felt: a child would soon be born. The husband left to get the tractor, and at this time his wife began to experience terrible pain.
The husband adapted a large sled to the tractor, laid his wife on it, left the house, and it was seven kilometers to the maternity hospital. The snowstorm does not stop, the steppe is covered with a white veil, the wife is moaning, the tractor is barely making its way through the snowdrifts.
Halfway there it became impossible to go further, the tractor sank in the snowdrifts, and the engine stalled. A young husband approached his wife, lifted her from the sleigh, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her in his arms, with incredible difficulty getting out of one snowdrift and plunging into another.
The snowstorm raged, the snow blinded his eyes, the husband was sweating, his heart was beating out of his chest; it seemed that one more step and he would no longer have the strength, but at the same time it was clear to the man that if he stopped for even a minute, he would die.
After a few tens of meters, he stopped for a moment, took off his coat, remaining in a padded jacket.
The wife was moaning in his arms, the wind was howling in the steppe, and the husband in these moments was not thinking about anything except the small living creature that was about to be born and for which he, the young tractor driver Stepan, is responsible to his wife, to his father and mother, to his grandfather and my grandmother, before the entire human race, before my conscience.
The young father walked four terrible kilometers for several hours; He knocked on the door of the maternity hospital in the evening; knocked, handed his wife wrapped in a blanket into the hands of the nurses and fell unconscious. When they unrolled the blanket, the amazed doctors could not believe their eyes: next to his wife lay a child - alive, strong. He had just been born, the mother began to feed her son right there in the corridor, and the doctors surrounded the bed in which the father lay.
For ten days Stepan was between life and death.
Doctors saved his life.
This is how Vasilko was born.
— 2 —
In ancient times, in one kingdom-state there lived a noble boyar. He boasted of his untold wealth and boasted of his family and tribe. And how could the boyar not be proud and arrogant? His lands are not measured. On those lands there were cities with suburbs, rich villages with suburbs; Countless herds of horses grazed on the green meadows. There were a lot of animals in the boyar forests, and fish swarmed in the rivers and lakes.
From time immemorial, the boyar's grandfathers and great-grandfathers sat in large places in the boyar duma and carried out all state affairs - so shouldn't he be proud of his family and tribe!
The boyar's only daughter grew up, such a beauty that you couldn't imagine anything but tell it in a fairy tale, and she was also smart and wise. And the more she grew up, the more beautiful she became, the further the hawthorn’s fame rolled about her beauty and intelligence.
So the boyar lived in his white-stone mansions in wealth and in honor. Seven nannies and seven hay girls followed the hawthorn. They took care of it and took care of it more than their eyes. And the father doted on his daughter.
And now the time has come, the time has come, the beauty has grown up and got married. And the suitors were right there: one after another they began sending matchmakers. Many princes from their state and from other lands wanted to become related to the famous rich boyar. The matchmakers were greeted warmly and with honor in the boyar mansions.
“Thank you for the honor,” said the boyar. - I need to ask the bride. Let her speak for herself. I will not force her and I will not remove her freedom.
And the hawthorn said every time:
“It’s too early for me, father, to get married and build my own nest.” I’ll live under your wing and show off with the girls.
That's it for the groom to turn away from the gate. So a year has passed, and another is coming to an end. And suddenly big matchmakers arrived from a distant state, from a famous kingdom. They say to the boyar:
“The earth is full of rumors, boyar.” The fame of your daughter’s beauty and intelligence spreads all over the world. And so our king, the ruler of many nations, sent to you about a good deed - about matchmaking. He wants to become related to you and asks you to marry the hawthorn to him.
The boyar was delighted when he heard such speeches. “If such a groom has been found, the great king himself, the ruler of a powerful state, and my daughter will become the queen of a famous state, then it’s much better,” the boyar thinks. “You shouldn’t miss such a groom!”
And he did not ask his daughter anything, but immediately ordered a feast. At that feast, he cordially treated the big matchmakers - the king’s ambassadors, and thanked them for the honor:
“I am glad to become related to the great sovereign, and my daughter also thanks for the honor.” She happily agrees to marry the great sovereign. No wonder, apparently, that she has still refused all other suitors. When the feast was celebrated and the guests went to their kingdom, the boyar came to his daughter’s mansion.
- Well, dear daughter, get ready for the wedding! The great sovereign himself, the ruler of such and such an illustrious kingdom, sent matchmakers, and I betrothed you. It's a great honor for us. Such a groom is no match for our princely sons, who sought your hand, your consent, and whom you yourself refused to everyone. You will soon be the queen of a great state, the ruler of many nations. Our princesses will probably burst with envy!
The hawthorn lowered her eyes and quietly answered:
- I am your daughter, sir, and your will.
- Why did you drown your eyes in the ground? - asked the boyar. - Or don’t you like the groom?
“I haven’t even seen the groom,” the daughter answered even more quietly.
“I haven’t seen it, but I’ve probably heard about him,” said the boyar. - And you’ll get married and, lo and behold, you’ll fall in love. As they say, if you endure it, you will fall in love. I care about you, I care about your happiness, I wish you happiness!
- Yes, I’m okay. I will not leave your will. As you say, so it will be,” the daughter said and lowered her head even lower. “Today I’m not feeling well, something might be wrong, sir.”
And from that very day the hawthorn fell ill. Day by day she became worse and worse. The boyar called the doctor, but it did not help. He called another and a third. But no matter how much the hawthorn was treated, no matter what drugs were given, the disease did not go away. It got worse and worse. Soon she stopped getting out of bed.
The boyar became alarmed. I called more and more doctors, but to no avail. Then they began to search throughout the kingdom for a sorcerer-witch doctor - someone who could recognize the illness and cure the hawthorn.
They looked for and brought back an ancient old woman - she could barely stand on her feet, propped up with a stick.
The old woman healer began to question the nannies and mothers, to find out when and how the hawthorn had become ill, and then she locked herself with the boyar’s daughter, face to face, and ordered that no one should be allowed to see them. No one knew what the conversation was about.
And when the old medicine woman came out of the hawthorn mansion, she bowed to the boyar:
“We must, Father Boyar, search and find a happy man and beg or somehow get a shirt from him.” As soon as the beautiful hawthorn puts on that shirt, she will feel better and get better. No other medicine will help.
As soon as the boyar heard these words, he immediately ordered:
- Search throughout the kingdom for the happiest person and get a shirt from him. Don't come back without that!
The boyar envoys set off. They drove and drove, but nowhere could they find the happiest person. Some people have a lot of wealth and a good family, but they complain about their health - what kind of happiness is that? The other one is doing well in his family, he himself is healthy, and lives in complete contentment, but there is no harmony with his neighbors - again, not good! The third one has problems in the family: the husband and wife are living poorly. The fourth has troubles and disappointments with his children. No matter how much they traveled, they did not meet a person who was happy with everything and could say to himself: “I am a happy person, and there is no one happier than me in the whole world!”
Once upon a time a dark night overtook the boyar envoys on their way, and at that time they arrived at the village. The elder said:
- We'll have to spend the night here. Where will you go at night?
We looked around. No fire is visible anywhere, only in one hut, on the edge of the village, a window glows. They drove up to this dilapidated, rickety hut, dismounted, came closer and heard a voice:
- I am the happiest person in the world!
The boyar's envoys were dumbfounded. They clung to the window and saw: a curly-haired young man jumped out from behind the table into the middle of the hut, danced and said:
“You couldn’t find me happier, even if you walked around the whole wide world!”
At that same moment, a pretty young woman rushed from the stove into the middle of the hut and stamped her foot:
- And my happiness is all in you! There is no better share than mine. You feel good with me, but I feel better!
The boyar envoys did not hesitate for a long time. They knocked.
- Let me in, good people, to spend the night!
The owner unlocked the door.
- Welcome. They don’t take overnight accommodations with them!
With those words, he went out into the yard, helped remove the horses, and when they entered the hut, the hostess poured water into the washstand and handed him a towel:
- Take off your clothes, good people, wash yourself off the road!
And the young housewife herself is fussing, rushing to set the table. The owner hurries his wife:
- Get moving! What's in the oven, everything's on the table!
The hostess set the table, bowed and said:
-Taste our bread and salt. The richer you are, the happier you are!
When they sat down at the table, the senior boyar envoy said:
“Near the hut we heard: weren’t you the owner, saying that you were the happiest person in the world?”
-Who should I say more here? - the owner answers. – I really am a happy person!
- If so, do me a favor and help us out of trouble.
- What kind of trouble happened to you? - asked the owner.
“Don’t talk,” answered the boyar envoy. “Our boyar, the most noble and rich man in our kingdom, had a serious illness in his only daughter, a clever, wise woman and a beautiful woman. The bride is already They called so many doctors! No one could recognize the disease, and no medicine helped. And then one old witch was found. She examined the hawthorn tree and said: “There is only one medicine, it is the remedy. If the hawthorn wears the shirt of a happy person, it will become easier for her and she will recover. No other medicine will help her.” The boyar sent us to look for a happy man. So you give us your shirt off your shoulder. And if the boyar feels better and she recovers, the boyar will do whatever you want for you, he will not regret anything.
“I don’t need anything from your boyar,” said the owner, “and if my shirt can make a person feel better, then with my dear soul...” And then he hesitated, looked at his wife and said:
- Give me the Armenian quickly!
His wife gave him a patched army coat. The man took off his shirt and pulled on his overcoat.
- Here, take my shirt. I didn’t have another shift, so I’ll be in the Armenian for now.
The boyar envoy was surprised. “Well, well,” he thinks. “He considers himself the happiest person, but he himself has only one shirt, there is no other one to replace it!” but he didn’t say anything, folded his shirt and put it in his traveling bag.
The next day they suddenly rose with light. The hostess baked pancakes and fed the guests. The boyar envoys thanked them for the bread and salt, and even more so for the shirt, and set off on their journey.
No matter how long or how short they rode, soon the fairy tale is told, but not so quickly the thing is done, but the fellows keep moving forward and forward. And we arrived at the boyars' courtyard.
They told the boyar how they found the happy man. And the old witch is right there. She took the shirt and went to the hawthorn tower.
Three days have passed. The boyar found out that his daughter felt better, and a week later she began to recover. The boyar was delighted and ordered:
- Go, bring that happy man!
They sent one of the previous envoys. The road is familiar. And soon a messenger brought a man. The boyar greeted him warmly:
“You helped me in my grief: as the healer said, so it happened.” My daughter has recovered. This way or that way, you helped me get rid of my misfortune. But I just can’t understand: why do you think that you are the happiest person?
- Yes, because I think so and talk about it, because I really am a happy person! - the man answers.
“I look at you and am amazed,” the boyar spoke. - you consider yourself a happy person, and the zipunishka barely rests on your shoulders due to its disrepair. And you live, as my servants said, in great poverty: the hut is askew, you eat radishes and kvass - that’s all your pickles, there is no shirt to replace it. Well, what kind of happiness is there?
The man looked at the eminent boyar, paused and said:
- It’s all like that. My hut is old, and my coat is old. Does happiness really live in mansions and in clothes?
Some people have plenty of everything: their pantries and bins are bursting with all sorts of goods, but for him everything is not enough. He dried out his wife at work, exhausted himself, and knows no peace. Greed has overcome, and he does not see happiness.
Another one also coveted wealth and married an ugly, unloved woman. Or a poor man betrothed a young, beautiful daughter to a rich widower - again bad: they live like strangers. They have no love, no agreement.
And I really am a happy person! Judge for yourself. We married for love, and my wife and I live in love and harmony. There is never any discord between us, not a bad word is said. We have never envied and do not envy anyone, because no one lives better than the way we live. We are always happy to help people in any way we can. And if we need anything, the neighbors will happily run to help. What about the shirt? My wife will spin yarn, weave linen and sew me a new shirt, better than the old one. And what you said about the hut is also a fixable matter. Let's recover in the field in the fall, I'll call for help, and the neighbors will help with their dear souls. Look, we’ll get it done in a day or two – it’s an artel business. And live without worrying! If only there was health and love and harmony in the family.
The boyar marveled at the peasant’s words and said:
- You responded to my grief. I didn’t regret the last shirt. I want to repay you for your kindness with kindness. Ask for whatever you want!
- I don’t need anything. It’s enough for me that my shirt did some good. Perhaps, if you have a garus half shawl, perhaps I should please my wife with a new one.
The boyar was more surprised than before, smiled and said:
- Go to the cookhouse. There they will feed you and give you something to drink. Take a break from the road. Then I'll call you.
The man left, and the boyar ordered to call the old healer.
“You treated my daughter and got her back on her feet.” Tell me the truth, why did this illness happen?
The old witch bowed to the boyar:
“Don’t be angry, father-boyar, I hid something from your mercy, it’s a thing of the past.” As soon as they brought me in on your orders, I began asking and torturing the mothers and the hay girls. And then she asked the beautiful hawthorn herself face to face, had a heart-to-heart talk and found out that she had fallen ill on the very day you told her about marriage, you betrothed our darling to a foreign king whom she had never even seen. From that day on, a hopeless melancholy and dryness came over her... and where is the girl’s melancholy and dryness, be sure to look for a handsome young man...
The boyar stamped his foot:
- I forgot, old woman! What kind of fellow are you weaving nonsense about?
“Be angry, don’t be angry, father boyar, but if I tell you the whole truth, this is why the whole illness, how I got to the bottom of the matter, happened: it’s already a year since the good fellow, the young archer, fell in love with the beautiful boyar.” , your squadmate. And he loves our darling dearly.
The boyar's face changed and he asked menacingly:
- Who is this?! And how dare he? Yes, I will kill him from the world!
- Who is he? You need to ask the hawthorn about that, but I don’t know. And what dared to fall in love with your grace’s beautiful daughter - you can’t tell your heart! And the hawthorn herself loves him, my dear. So, to snatch away the good fellow from the light is to destroy your daughter...
“Well, sorceress, do you know how to leave the tea cold, how to survive it from the hawthorn’s heart, so that you can forget about it?”
And then the boyar grabbed his head:
“She will destroy both herself and me.” Soon they will come to pick up the bride from the groom! What will I say to the great sovereign! What answer will I give?
— I treated hawthorn. Drink an infusion of various beneficial herbs. This is beneficial for all mental ailments. Yes, she calmed me down with intimate conversations. But I have never practiced witchcraft in order to throw cold spells, to cast spells against heartfelt and pure love - this is an unkind, sinful thing.
At that very moment a servant ran into the upper room:
- A messenger to your mercy, boyar, from such and such a kingdom!
- Call me! - the boyar ordered, but he himself could not stand still, he ran around the upper room and forgot about the healer.
A foreign messenger entered, bowed to the boyar and said:
“They sent me with sad news.” Our great sovereign ordered us to live long. He died of his wounds, and our new king, the younger brother of the late great sovereign, sent me to you. He ordered the ring that you gave to our great matchmakers at the handshake to be returned to your daughter.
The boyar turned white and just groaned. And then he asked:
- How did all this happen?
“More recently, our late great sovereign went with a small army to pacify the rebellious sub-prince, and he lured our army by cunning and attacked by surprise from an ambush. In the battle, the sovereign was seriously wounded. They brought him home without memory, and he died two days later.
With those words, the messenger handed the ring to the boyar. The boyar accepted the ring and released the messenger. Then he sat for a long time with his head down. Finally I came to my senses:
- Why is this being done? When trouble comes, open the gate. One grief was not over, but then another misfortune struck. Can you find such a groom anywhere now? My daughter's happiness has gone out of my hands!
“Or it may turn out that the sad news is for the better,” the old healer said. “If a good man is your warrior, then this will be the hawthorn’s happiness: she will marry her beloved.” And your wealth, boyar-father, will not only be lost on your daughter and son-in-law, but also on your grandchildren and great-grandchildren!
- Go away, old woman! - the boyar jumped up. - Do not disturb me!
The boyar sat for a long time, did not want to see anyone. And then. They say he ordered that curly-haired man to be called, gave him an expensive shawl, and said goodbye to him affectionately:
“Apparently, your homespun truth is worth something.”
Then he talked to his daughter and called the archer-commander. He liked the fellow. And soon they started a wedding feast - a cheerful meal. And when the feast was feasted, the boyar rewarded his daughter and son-in-law with a large dowry.
They lived happily ever after and carefully kept the shirt of a cheerful, happy man. And the old boyar looked at the happy family and rejoiced.
This is where the fairy tale ends.
…
FAMILY
RUSSIAN TALES
SEE ALSO:
Who is taking whom home?
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
There are two five-year-old boys in kindergarten - Vasilko and Tolya. Their mothers work on a cattle farm. At six o'clock in the evening they go to the kindergarten to pick up the children.
Mom dresses Vasilka, takes him by the hand, leads him along and says:
- Let's go home, Vasilko.
And Tolya dresses himself, takes his mother’s hand, leads her along and says:
- Let's go home, mom. The road was covered with snow. There is only a narrow path in the snow. Vasilko’s mother walks through the snow, and her son walks along the path. After all, she is taking Vasilko home.
Tolya walks through the snow, and mom walks along the path. After all, Tolya is taking his mother home.
Twelve years have passed. Vasilko and Tolya became strong, slender, handsome young men.
In winter, when the roads were covered with deep snow, Vasilka’s mother became seriously ill.
On the same day, Tolya’s mother also fell ill.
The doctor lived in a neighboring village, five kilometers away.
Vasilko went outside, looked at the snow and said:
- Is it possible to walk in such snow? – He stood for a while and returned to the house.
And Tolya walked through the deep snow to a neighboring village and returned with a doctor.
Seventh daughter
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
Mother had seven daughters. One day a mother went to visit her son, but the son lived far, far away. Mother returned home a month later.
When she entered the hut, the daughters, one after another, began to say how much they missed their Mother.
“I missed you like a poppy misses a ray of sunshine,” said the first daughter.
“I was waiting for you, like dry earth waiting for a drop of water,” said the second daughter.
“I cried for you like a little chick cries for a bird...” cooed the third daughter.
“It was difficult for me without you, like a bee without a flower,” said the fourth daughter, caressing her mother and looking into her eyes.
“I dreamed of you like a rose dreams of a drop of dew,” chirped the fifth daughter.
“I looked out for you like a nightingale looks out for a cherry orchard,” whispered the sixth daughter.
But the seventh daughter said nothing, although she had a lot to say. She took off Mother’s shoes and brought her water in a large basin to wash her feet.
The Tale of the Goose
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
On a hot summer day, a goose took her little yellow geese for a walk. She showed the children the big world. This world was green and joyful - a huge meadow spread out in front of the goslings. The goose taught the children to pluck the tender stems of young grass. The stems were sweet, the sun was warm and gentle, the grass was soft, the world was green and singing with many voices of bugs, butterflies, and moths. The goslings were happy.
Suddenly dark clouds appeared and the first drops of rain fell to the ground. And then large hailstones, like sparrow eggs, began to fall. The goslings ran to their mother, she raised her wings and covered her children with them. It was warm and cozy under the wings, the goslings heard as if from somewhere far away came the roar of thunder, the howl of the wind and the sound of hailstones. They even began to have fun: something terrible was happening behind their mother’s wings, and they were warm and comfortable.
Then everything calmed down. The goslings wanted to quickly go to the green meadow, but the mother did not raise her wings. The goslings squealed demandingly: let us out, mom.
The mother quietly raised her wings. The goslings ran out onto the grass. They saw that the mother’s wings were wounded and many feathers were torn out. The mother was breathing heavily. But the world around was so joyful, the sun shone so brightly and tenderly, the bugs, bees, and bumblebees sang so beautifully that for some reason it never occurred to the goslings to ask: “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” And when one, the smallest and weakest gosling came up to his mother and asked: “Why are your wings wounded?” - She answered quietly: “Everything is fine, my son.”
The yellow goslings scattered on the grass, and the mother was happy.
Option #5
Family is one of the main values of a person, something that he should protect and respect. Of course, there are bad families, but if a person is lucky and all his relatives are good people, then he should be proud of them.
I love my family very much, because we are very united and friendly, and besides, each of us has our own role. For example, my mother loves to make the house cozy and cook, so she devotes herself completely to these activities. She cooks very tasty, and after she cleans the room, a fairy tale reigns. Dad loves to go fishing and woodburning. On weekends he brings a lot of fish for dinner, and on holidays he gives us beautiful things made of wood. My sister loves animals, she takes care of our cat: she feeds her, changes her litter tray. I love helping my parents, so I wash the dishes every day and the floors every two days.
Of course, family is not only those people who live with you under the same roof, it is everyone you love and always look forward to visiting. My aunt, uncle and cousin. When they come to us, the fun begins: my sister and I always play, read and run, and my uncle, aunt and my parents sit at the table, drink tea and talk.
Since mom and dad work, we can only have fun on weekends. On Saturday the whole family goes to zoos or museums. If it’s winter outside, we take ice skates, skates or skis and go for a ride, and if it’s summer, we play badminton or football. My dad is a football player, so he always teaches my sister and me something new. Every evening we all sit together in the hall and talk about life: about our adventures, plans for the future, just fantasies and dreams. At such moments, even adult mom and dad become romantics who share their innermost desires to meet a fairy or see a unicorn.
Every year, on Family Day, we go camping, light a fire there and enjoy the time spent with each other. I look forward to this night every year.
I like to see how dad loves mom, he looks at her like a young boy in love, and mom always answers him with a tender look. They love my sister and me very much, they say that they don’t know how they lived without us. Perhaps this is love. Perhaps this is a real family. I dream that when I grow up, I will get married and will also look lovingly at my wife and my children.
Everyone has their own happiness
Tamara Lombina
Fedka has long dreamed of a bicycle. He even dreamed about it: red, with a shiny steering wheel and a bell. You drive, and the meter clicks, clicks! – counts how many kilometers you have clocked up.
And yesterday he simply couldn’t believe his eyes: they bought a bicycle for the son of farmer Avdeev Vaska. Exactly the one Fedka dreamed of! If only it had been a different color or something...
Fedka never seemed to be envious, but here he even cried into his pillow, he was so sorry for his dream. He didn’t pester his mother with questions about when they would buy him a bike too - he knows that his parents don’t have money.
And now Vaska rushed past his yard... Fedka was watering the holes with cucumbers and quietly swallowing his tears.
As always, on time, Uncle Ivan burst into the yard with noise, laughter and such a familiar cough. Unlucky, that's what his relatives called him. He graduated from some very smart institute and came to his native village. There is no work for his head here and there won’t be, and the guy didn’t want any other job; he got a job tending the horses of the Avdeevs.
It’s amazing how he always manages to understand that Fedka is in trouble.
“Fedul, did he pout his lips,” his uncle asked, looking slyly into his eyes, “did he burn his caftan?”
But then Vaska rushed past the yard, calling like crazy. Uncle Ivan looked at Fedka knowingly.
“Will you go with me at night tonight?” – he suddenly suggested.
- Can? Will mom let you in?
“Yes, we’ll persuade the two of us,” assured the cheerful guy.
How wonderful this uncle Ivan is!
In the evening he arrived on a white Orlik, and Ognivko, a young red horse with thin legs, a fiery mane, and huge and cunning eyes, ran next to Orlik. Fedka himself doesn’t remember how he sat down on Ognivka. Under the envious glances of the boys, they drove through the entire village, and then rode through the meadow through the clouds. Yes, yes, Uncle Ivan said that clouds come down to their Silver Log at night to sleep until the morning. It’s so great to ride through the cloud, completely surrendering to Ognivok’s instincts. And then, right on horseback, they rode into a river as warm as fresh milk. Ognivko turned out to be so smart, they played so well with him in the water! Fedka was hiding behind other horses, and he found him and managed to grab him by the ear with soft lips...
Already exhausted, Fedka climbed ashore. Ognivko was still running around with the foals, playing, and then he came and lay down next to Fedka. Uncle Ivan cooked fish soup. When only he manages to do everything. When did he manage to catch the fish?
Fedka lay down on his back and... closed his eyes - the sky was looking at him with all the stars. The fire smelled deliciously of smoke and fish soup, but Ognivok, his breath, felt so calm. It was nice to feel such a lively smell of a young half-foal, half-horse. The crickets sang some kind of endless song of happiness.
Fedka even laughed: the dreamed bicycle now seemed so unnecessary and ugly here, next to the stars. Fedka hugged Ognivok and felt that his soul soared high, high, to the stars. For the first time he understood what happiness was.
Yurko - Timurovite
Vasily Sukhomlinsky
Third-grader Yurko became a Timurovite. Even the commander of a small Timurov detachment. There are nine boys in his squad. They help two grandmothers who live on the outskirts of the village. They planted apple trees and roses near their huts and watered them. They bring water, go to the store for bread.
Today is a rainy autumn day. Yurko and the boys went to chop wood for their grandmother. I came home tired and angry.
He took off his shoes and hung up his coat. Both boots and coat are covered in mud.
Yurko sat down at the table. Mom serves him lunch, and grandmother washes his shoes and cleans his coat.
