was a smell of spring dampness from the window).

Whatever it was, his grandfather's voice restored his peace of mind. Incomprehensible to us flair, not understanding not a word, he nevertheless caught their meaning: we are next to you, we are your protection, no need to worry!

Yes, we will save it, protect it, grow it. But shall we prevent our guardianship from acquiring the necessary vitality?

Until friends, books, a kindergarten, a school come into his life, he will live among us, four, for an entire era! And the most decisive. After all, it is in the first years that a person is most susceptible. And because the family is omnipotent! But not all parents know about it. They are at home the absolute creators of the future troubles and joys of their child.

Record 2nd

It is forbidden? Why?

About creativity

and prohibitions in education

The phone rang at the wrong time.

Ksenka had just crawled across the sofa and was already reaching for the white wiring with the pink switch: now her tiny fingers would close around the wiring, she would bang a wall lamp, and her concentrated, experimental face would shine with delight.

But then Vera Ivanovna entered:

- You... Go, I'll look after her.

We had such a great time working with her! I carried her to the other end of the sofa, she, energetically working with her elbows and knees, crossed it, blinking her eyes, rattled the lamp, I again grabbed her and carried her ... from the socket) more and more confident ... And then there is the phone.

He's not far, almost at the door, in the adjoining room.

Well, yes, of course, who else can call on Sunday on official business, except for Vadim Nikolaevich! The voice is like sandpaper on a tube... Drawings, "connection of communications", "need to be solved in a new way, but deadlines are tight"... Our department manager, but too absorbed in work; somehow called me at half past eleven at night, being sure that it's only nine in the evening.

Now I tried to finish the conversation faster, because behind the door I heard Vera Ivanovna's professional-sounding, teacher's voice: "You mustn't touch it! By no means!"

I immediately imagined how Ksenka's face instantly becomes the same again, helplessly surprised and not understanding how it was a few months ago. Then she was just beginning to look at her hands and feet, to slap her hand on the toys, on the wooden bars of the bed. She had at most half a minute of attention for each toy.

For a little longer she could listen to our her-talk.

She seemed to be occupied here by the changing expression of her face and intonation. Later, when she began to crawl, she had a strange object of interest - a thread on a sofa bedspread.

She could examine and pick this thread for almost three minutes - a huge time for her! Here already her face more and more often lost its helplessly surprised expression, became concentrated and businesslike. Now she already has a solid research experience: a torn book cover, a puffed-out plug from an inflated goose (the sound is “Puff!”, an astonished cry) and, finally, a wall lamp.

Vadim Nikolaevich was saying something about an error in the calculations, and an alarming squeak was already heard outside the door, drowned out by distinctly sounding words: "No, Ksyusha, don't! Look, what an interesting toy!"

When I hung up, the squeaking in the next room was replaced by a loud roar. (It's amazing, such a small, almost weightless creature and such a powerful bass sound! Even in the room of Baba Glasha's neighbor, you can hear it.)

I enter. Vera Ivanovna shakes the rattle, which Ksenya has long been tired of, near her face, distorted by crying, angrily saying:

- They spoiled the girl. Everyone let her!

From the bathroom, leaving the laundry, Valya came running. Maxim Petrovich came, tearing himself away from the camera that had been taken apart to the last screw.

- Is it possible to educate like that?! Vera Ivanovna continued to be indignant. - Do not accustom her to the word "impossible" at all.

- And do not frighten her with this word, suppress her natural curiosity, - I burst into another tirade. - And now we are deafening, then at school we are surprised why children have no interest in learning.

Ksenka in Valya's arms was distracted: the tears had not yet run down her cheeks, but she was already intently pulling her mother's nose.

She won't listen to anyone.

- That's good, let him live with his mind.

- Yes, she still has no mind!

- And it won't, if you pull it up endlessly.

- And if you give the will - will it be ?! She will do this to you...

Who do you want to grow out of it - you thought?

We, of course, thought about it. And how long. In vehemence, I immediately outlined our program for educating not a consumer, not an adaptor to circumstances, but a person capable of exploring circumstances and transforming them ... In a word, a creative personality!

- ... To hover in the clouds, like both of you, - Vera summed up our discussion Ivanovna leaving the room.

- You, most importantly, do not get excited, - Maxim Petrovich said to Valya and me, winked at Ksenka and went to his camera.

At the door he ran into Baba Glasha. She wailed in a thin voice, blinking her eyes in a smile.

- And I thought, nothing happened, such a cry. Oh, the loud-mouthed girl is growing, there will be no rest from her either for herself or for others.

Yes, now they are all nervous: running to school, running from school.

Where are they in a hurry? All life is yet to come...

"Well, let's say, not all of it, though a small part, has been lived through, - I thought then. - A step towards an independent life has been taken."

What will my daughter have?...

Entry 3

FACT OF LIFE

About the bear in the den

games seriously

and awakening

self-awareness

It was unbelievable.

I didn't even realize what had happened.

Ksenya, who was sitting on the sofa (she has been walking for a long time and talking a little), suddenly grimacing in a tearful grimace, said:

- I want to go home.

- You're at home!

- To mom and dad, - she continued, starting to roar.

- Yes, I'm your dad!

Gently I touch her, stroking her head, calming her down. Vera Ivanovna looks in the door: "What do you have here?" Maxim Petrovich looms behind her. Both are alarmed.

Still would! So calm spa game. their granddaughter murmured so loudly, and suddenly - a roar. I'm trying to explain: I was a bear, she was Masha. She swept the den, cooked the stew, then the bear told her that he would put her in his place forever. I cried.

- Is it possible to scare children? Vera Ivanovna reprimanded me.

You can't... Of course you can't.. I agree and I can't come to my senses: Ksenka looked at me, saw my face, understood that I was dad, that we were playing! Is it really possible like this, in a city apartment, sweeping the parquet floor with an imaginary broom, and suddenly think that you are in some kind of lair, in a deep forest, and the person sitting on the sofa is not dad at all, but a bear that came down from the page of the Collection of Fairy Tales?

It was hard to believe, but here it is, Ksenka's face, wet with wet tears. She, clinging to me, is still only calming down, coming to her senses. In the literal sense - "into herself", because for this she needs to stop being Masha.

... More recently, some six months ago (she was one and a half years old then), she lived with Valya in the village for three summer months, with relatives, and was a dumb creature.

Could with an understanding expression to listen to one of the adults for a long time, only smiling in response to the impatient question: "When will you speak, silent one?"

There seemed to be something in her silence.

Here she is, on plump legs, stepping unsteadily, carefully descends from the porch, approaches the willow, lifts her disheveled head. The willow rustles in the wind with narrow foliage, silvery from the inside, as if trying to say something. Ksenya touches the trunk, strokes it as if she expects it to arch like a cat's back.

Near the path leading to the river lies a large flat stone. He didn't seem to have any signs of life. But well warmed by the sun, it keeps heat in itself for a long time and therefore also seems to be alive. Ksenya, after sitting on it, waves goodbye to him, moving on.

The narrow Klyazma sparkles with fleeing ripples, stirs algae near the shore, rustles with reeds. It is, without a doubt, alive, albeit chilly. Its movement can be felt by lowering your hand into the water. Feeling a friendly disposition towards her, Ksenya explains to her with the sound "kyh!", which usually means an invitation either to work with a shovel in the sand, or to walk ... In a word - to action.

For her, everything around - both living and inanimate - is relatives!

Is it not the wordlessness that makes her related to trees, a stone, a river?!

Although, perhaps, we, adults, should, even are obliged to feel our kinship with them. But we don't have time.

And then: we are blinded by our power. What do we need a stone that we can turn into powder if necessary!

It is proved that we sometimes need him more than he is. Like a forest untouched by an ax, like a river without lilac stains of fuel oil.

This