One woman had a son of about 5 years old. And so did her spouse. And not some alcoholic, but perfectly normal. And a decent job. And the husband had a mother. Of course, to him she was a mother. But for this woman, she was her mother-in-law. Unbearable, bossy, ate her up.
Called her a slob, unkempt, unable to cook, not trained for anything. And in general, she considered her son clearly superior to this woman. She imposed to visit her son, she came when he was not at home. Only her daughter-in-law and grandchildren were left. She’d blow her daughter-in-law’s mind, get on her nerves and play with her grandson. Enjoys it. She didn’t want her grandson. And the woman had to endure all her mother-in-law’s insults. And she didn’t tell her husband anything. The mother was sly and didn’t hurt her daughter-in-law in her son’s presence.
That is how they all lived. One day her husband had a name day. Although they celebrated it every year, but this time it was a special holiday. His mother literally became silk after this holiday. And why did it happen this way? All very simple and prosaic. It was as follows. All the invited guests gathered – about 20 people. My daughter-in-law was literally off her feet from exhaustion, and my mother was sitting on the table and rejoicing. The daughter-in-law couldn’t keep an eye on her son in this turmoil. He sits at the table and spoils himself. He interferes in the conversation of the elders, makes inappropriate remarks, and his grandmother tries to calm him down. As a result, Dad decides to intervene.
He tells his son that each of the guests gave him a gift. But I didn’t get anything from you. You didn’t bother to give me anything. But all is not lost yet, he added, seeing his son’s confusion. You can make it up to him.
You can draw a picture. Just do it. But he has to go into the room and make it a work of art. It doesn’t matter what. You can use paint, you can use pencils, you can use felt-tip pens. The son was glad that he could please his father.
The man did not know how great his son’s ability to draw. So he guessed how much fun the guests would have. So he added that his son could simply draw a tank battle with the Nazis. After all, both he and his son really liked playing with tanks.
A couple of hours were over and his son brought out a hand-drawn work of art. His father looked at this creation and put his eyebrows on the bridge of his nose. Who told you about these bad words? Mother doesn’t use them. Neither do I.
The guests looked and saw the drawing of tanks. Ours were the usual ones, with red stars. And the others with swastikas. And each enemy tank has a swastika word on it. My son says it’s his grandmother’s expression. And pointed his finger at her. The guests rolled with laughter. After all, my grandmother was an honored teacher. She worked as a teacher until the day she died. She taught junior high school.
The grandmother tried to make excuses. Allegedly the child, from the moment he started reading, could not miss a single poster or sign. And even read the inscriptions on fences. Then she told him that it was a bad word, a fascist word. Since then, the boy has been writing it on enemy tanks.
But the guests had no time for explanations. No one would listen to them. The next day she began to say nasty things to her daughter-in-law, as usual, but the latter decided to fight her back. She said that if she heard such things once more she would forbid her to go out with her grandson. She had to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to lose her grandson.
