Another little story from the Russia years. I'm sure I've got stories from elsewhere, but I'm a small, off-duty, Czechoslovakian Traffic Warden if I can remember them. This anecdote, by the way, is going to meander a bit before getting to the point... I'm in that sort of a mood.
This story involves a normal everyday family. A happily married couple with two
young children (ages three and four) who all live together in peace and harmony -
maybe they're not that normal. The problem with having children in Russia is that
you get all these old Russian women who tell you exactly what's on their mind.
For instance: if someone lights a cigarette in a non-smoking area in Britain, the
most likely response is for some brave person to cough slightly and look
meaningfully towards the no smoking sign... there's us British for you.
If this were to happen in Russia, however, there's bound to be some old Russian
Dragon who will get up, stalk over to the offender and order them to put out their
cigarette in the sort of tone of voice that tells you that here is someone not to
mess with.
"What has this to do with chocolate?" I hear you cry. I'm getting there.
Russia, you see, is cold and in cold weather people dress up warmly and they dress their children up even more warmly to keep them safe from harm. If you're not the sort to put seven layers of clothing on your kids, then these aforementioned Old Russians charge there way up to you and order you to look after your children better. So just about every little kid in Russia is toasty warm day and night.
This family had been out shopping one day with my parents, and had been dragging the kids round with them. For a treat, therefore, the parents bought them a bar of chocolate each and gave it to them once they were all inside the car and ready to head off for home.
The older kid quite happily tore away the wrapping of the chocolate bar and munched away with a tremendous grin on her chocolate stained mouth. The younger boy, however, just sat there with a rather depressed look on his face and looked at his chocolate bar, held out in front of him.
His father was one of those really annoying people who tries talking to his
children in a calm voice to try and get them to do the right thing.
"Now then, Mark. Why don't you eat your nice big bar of chocolate. Yum
yum!"
But despite the father's best attempts at reason and his most baby like voice, the
little brat just sat there and stared at this choclate bar held out in front of
him. All the time he was getting more upset and then began to whimper
slightly.
"There there, Mark. There's nothing to cry about. You like chocolate, don't you?
Why don't you eat it all up like a good boy?"
At this point, Mark decided to start crying slightly.
"If you don't eat in then daddy will eat it for you. Mmm Mmm."
At which Mark stopped crying and started wailing like a car alarm.
The rest of the passengers in the car were all getting rather annoyed by the father's calm voice of reason and were ready to kill the both of them and take the chocolate when they realised what was wrong.
He couldn't bend his arm. He had such a thick coat on and so many layers of clothing underneath that he didn't have the strength to bend his arm enough to get the chocolate to his mouth.
The poor kid.
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