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To my elder one,
and all who lead baby doll by it’s hand
Chapter 1. Dinner and Polya
Somewhen before I thought we live in a house, but mommy told me – almost. There are a lot of little houses in our house; their names are flats. Those flats are like honeycombs in a hive and the one that is mine called a flat.
I have a doll. She is a tiny one here, a baby doll, so do not think she is like any other doll. I call my baby doll Polya. Polya is quite big for a doll, she has soft hands and soft legs, knows how to drink and how to wee, and can open and close her eyes as the real baby. Polya is my daughter and she is my res-pon-si-bi-li-ty. Don’t know the look of it but I do have special bag for it.
My Polya has a lot of things and we are together all the time.
“Babie, it is meal time. Go wee, wash your hands and sit down at the table.” Mommy calls.
I like it when mommy calls me babie or kitty. I do have a name but it is a great secret and I won’t tell it anyone, except Polya.
I pick Polya up and run to the kitchen.
“You’ve been to the toilet, haven’t you?” Mommy asks.
“Nope.”
“You’ve washed your hands, haven’t you?”
“Nope.”
“And why is it that you are here?”
“Polya, have you been to the toilet? Have you washed your hands? Ay-yay-yay! Let’s go.”
And we are heading to practice he-gy-en (it is a very smart word, I’ve been memorized it for ages).
I take a lot of toilet paper (in the end all have to be clean!) and put it into the bin (mommy insists I use it every time I’m in here), then I wee, get dressed and run to the bathroom. I wash my hands and head to the kitchen. There is a lot of water on the bathroom floor, and it’s slippery somehow, but it can not stop me and Polya (it is a challenge to stop us at all).
I place Polya in a toy chair (green, with strawberry-pattern) and buckle her there (why, it’s so easy to fall out!). I put a toy plate full of toy meal in front of her. Mommy says it is from plastic, but it is t-o-y, she just doesn’t get it. I sit down at the table (yes, I do have my own table, for children, pink, and a pink matching chair). There is soup in my plate with star-shaped pasta in it. Also there are an egg and something green, but I’ll pull out everything odd: I am not a goat to eat green, no-no. And a piece of bread, a big one. I destroy this bread and rub it with both my hands. It is already a nice pottage in my plate. Now everything is as if under the snow. Pretty! I pull out all of the green. The soup is hot. I put a spoon in it and fish corns out. It’s a pepper, but like corn, and it tastes bitter so I don’t eat it. I make a pile near my plate. I blow loudly («Fu-u-u!») and drops fly in all directions possible. That’s it, I am full.
