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Childhood smell. If you agree with this "abnormal" Patrick Zjuskindom who asserts, that the child should have a aroma you are absolutely normal person. Children smell wonderfully. Their hair actually are impregnated by taste карамели, from their barefoote
2008/05/30

Childhood smell. If you agree with this "abnormal" Patrick Zjuskindom who asserts, that the child should have a aroma you are absolutely normal person. Children smell wonderfully. Their hair actually are impregnated by taste карамели, from their barefooted legs blows разогретыми on the summer sun as smooth stones and a fresh butter, and as a whole from them smells as something is unique gentle and incomprehensibly fine, is boundless expensive and is unreal to the relatives certainly favourite and is defenceless touching, and still - the most important, invaluable, native, lovely and still something such that I never will understand. Any other parent reading - not reading "Perfumer", will make in one thousand times more exact definition of aroma of the child, rather than this my clumsy attempt to give the general formulation to that should be known and to belong to exclusively his mother and the father. But one I know for certain - the childhood should not smell equally: It should not smell as a state Russian cabbage soup from the general двадцатилитровой pans and means of disinfection by which the general toilets of children's home are impregnated.

Dzerzhinsky, almost eradicated in Russia the beginnings of the last century беспризорщину, would turn over in a coffin, having learnt about such blasphemous relation to its project - to a shelter for children-orphans, served by a prototype of modern official bodies on care of children who have remained without guardianship of parents. And if "iron" Felix all the same was live, for certain would ask: "and, what, it is better, when from children bears помойными garbage with domestic мусорок or spirit smoked привокзальных taverns where they beg in the evenings?" But, you see, at least it would be strange to conduct polemic with the person to whom already eight tens years are not present business before that is created in this world, and especially to ours with you children. I doubt, that at Felix Edmundovicha's lexicon there were concepts "Internet", "shopping", "skejt-bord", "em-pe-rub-plejer", "esemes" etc., etc. Try to present, that there are the things which much less advanced and have become today by an integral part of a life of the majority of children and teenagers, but causing in pupils of children's homes at the best - amazement.

I purposely will not begin to result here statistical data about that, how many in our country of children - both sick, and absolutely healthy which grow in boarding schools and children's homes of various type. The statistics is always something abstract and, as a rule, anybody from us in particular not concerning. The statistics belongs to the state which in understanding of the citizen least associates with it personally; well, as a last resort, this communication can be mediated - with the government, леем, a hymn, prison, tax, is rare - with hospital and is even more rare - with school. But I am assured, that a word "I" will not appear in the given associative number if only you can continue it. And the reason for that hardly is that historic fact, that at a phrase "the state is I" there is a lawful author. Simply, statistical data it is impossible to feel, taste really. They do not smell. So it is shrill caustically, to faintness is sterile pure bed-clothes, which застланы cots in the house of the baby do not smell only.

How often you are angry with the child because of its tricks? Every day, and even on some times in day. Has broken a cup, has told a lie, has received the two, has returned late... But has passed very few time, and here you have already tempered justice with mercy. In a current of several seconds the sight of your sensitive fumes varies from falsely-innocent in is underlined-offended, through an instant it becomes guilty-bashful, but only on a share of second. But here he is forgiven - and in the opinion of it there is a calm, but it too lasts not for long because through an instant it has found again a self-trust, and its sight becomes hardly playful that through a share of second to return to the usual condition - a pacification and thanks that it is still favourite. And this sight of light love and humility lasts least because all rest of the time in the opinion of our children is read a whim, mischief, insistence, discontent, overindulgence - all that takes away from all of us forces and without what we are afraid even to present the life. Actually all is sentimental inventions. It only that sees and reads mother in the opinion of the the child. And painfully to look in children's eyes which anybody never read.

Without it, of course, it is possible to manage. Детдомовец too can become not simply normal, but the successful person. Макаренко so that at all did not listen to psychologists of the crisis centres and cultivated in children high ideological standards within the precincts of special colonies. And, under statements of its contemporaries, it was possible to it. Certainly, values can if to learn to implant them, only in this case, as is known, there is a high risk for ever to weaken personal immunity of the person. No, do not think, I with huge respect concern workers of establishments where children-orphans are brought up. They are worthy the deepest gratitude that participate in preservation of the most expensive - a human life. I am proud of the state that it does not refuse children whom own parents sometimes refuse, and annually increases budgetary assignments for needs of boarding schools and children's homes. But money does not smell. In general anything. Especially, exchequer.

Each season has a aroma, and any of them does not smell so is delightful childly, as summer. It indescribably smells as a wet dust after suddenly appeared and as unexpectedly ended rain, it smells as the lake silt which has dried up on ankles after bathing, the iodine burning a scratch on a knee, it remarkably smells as the grandmother's kitchen garden fertilised by the cow manure, it is tasty smells as mum's holiday, which it takes to roll up for the winter jam, and still about what I know only with the daddy, - Coca-Cola and "McDonald's" th. And any strange aroma causing mixed feeling at last summer month - August from which blows as grapes and nuts, a fresh paint and a new portfolio. I not undertake to assert, that it is aroma of happiness. Everyone has the right to own, individual happiness. But if to you personally does not get smells карамели, warm smooth stones and a fresh butter, something it is unique gentle and incomprehensibly fine, it is boundless expensive and it is unreal close, certainly favourite and it is defenceless touching, the most important, invaluable, native, lovely and still something such that you yet do not understand, - that, means, the child is necessary to you.
 
Pita Svetlova,
Photo by Valerii Corcimari

20080517-472
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