The best stories for children about family.

For preschoolers about family and family traditions

Talk to your child about your family's traditions

Definition of the word “family” for children Even before the birth of the baby, it is worth deciding what kind of upbringing their future heir will receive. From the day a baby is born, the world around him consists of his parents. What will this world be like? This will depend entirely on what the child observes throughout each day. Either there will be quarrels, swearing, or calm communication and a peaceful atmosphere in the house. Often, children, growing up, transfer the behavior model adopted by their parents into their own family. So constantly control yourself. Don't forget that you are always being watched. Don't think that your baby is distracted by toys and doesn't hear what's going on around him. Children, like no one else, catch every step and gesture of their relatives. So the definition of the word “family” for children directly depends on the atmosphere and general aura in the relationship between their parents.

What is family through the eyes of a child? For your part, try as much as possible to surround your baby with love and affection. In turn, your good character traits will shape him as a person. The child will learn, remember the behavior and then follow your example. After all, who, if not parents, is such an important authority for children? It happens, of course, that people who come from families with an unhealthy atmosphere subsequently create a completely good family. But such an experience is extremely undesirable for a teenager. It is unfortunate that many people are negligent in raising children. They believe that the children will grow up anyway, because it is not for nothing that kindergarten teachers and teachers in secondary schools receive salaries. But only parents can instill the right attitude towards family. The child will definitely see the difference between what is taught at school and what he is used to observing at home. Consequently, if he is more accustomed to swearing and obscene words at home, then he will use them in communication with others. First of all, watch your behavior at home.

Family is WE
Family is WE. Family is me
Family is my dad and mom,
Family is Pavlik - dear brother,
Family is my fluffy cat,
Family is two dear grandmothers,
Family - and my mischievous sisters,
Family is godfather, aunts, and uncles,
A family is a Christmas tree in a beautiful outfit,
Family is a holiday around the round table,
Family is happiness
Family is home
Where they love and wait, and do not remember evil!

Poems about family
Family is happiness, love and luck,
Family means trips to the country in the summer.
Family is a holiday, family dates,
Gifts, shopping, pleasant spending.
The birth of children, the first step, the first babble,
Dreams of good things, excitement and trepidation.
Family is work, caring for each other,
Family means a lot of housework.
Family is important!
Family is difficult!
But it is impossible to live happily alone!
Always be together, take care of love,
Drive away grievances and quarrels,
I want my friends to say about us:
How nice your family is!

We are glad to meet the wonderful families taking part in . We present to you the story of Liliya Maltseva: her eldest daughter Dasha (11 years old) wrote a story about her family, and her middle daughter Sophia, 8 years old, drew a picture on this topic.

My family consists of five people. This is mom, dad, and we are three sisters: Dasha, Sophia and Polina. I believe that we have a very large family, because sometimes there is not even a place to sleep or play, there are so many people. But we are very friendly, although sometimes, of course, there are quarrels, especially with Sonya.

My mother's name is Lilia, she is 34 years old and she is now staying at home with Polina. And my dad’s name is Igor, he works as a programmer and is 40 years old.

My name is Dasha, I’m 11 years old and I’m already finishing 4th grade. I'll be graduating soon. My middle sister's name is Sonya, she is now 8 years old and finishing 2nd grade. My younger sister Polina, she recently turned one year old and is still growing up at home and doesn’t go anywhere without her mother.

My family and I love nature and animals very much. We have a lot of them at the dacha: a goat Masha and Mike, two kids, a dog and a cat, and there is also a boy hamster. We sold the girl because she always escaped from her cage. On weekends, we like to have barbecue at Abika’s house, especially when Aunt Gulya comes with Uncle Misha and Guzalka. These are my mother's sisters. Because they come with their children Andryusha, Irina and Olechka. We always play and have fun together. Recently we were putting out a fire together; someone set fire to the grass next to the abika and it began to quickly flare up everywhere. If it weren’t for us, there would have been many fires and even houses could have burned down. Thank God we managed to put it out in time.

City competition

literary works by schoolchildren

"My Republic"

Topic: story “Friendly Family”

Muzipova Elina

3 B class

MBOU "Secondary School No. 22"

Teacher: Shvetsova Valentina Aleksandrovna

October

2015

Hello, I want to introduce you to my wonderful family, which consists of mom, dad, brother and me, Elina Muzipova. I am nine years old, I am in third grade.

I love all my family very much. The person closest to me and my best friend is my mother. Her name is Elvira Ravilovna. My mommy is sweet, nice, kind, smart, beautiful, and fair. She affectionately calls me Elinyusha, and my brother “Bunny.”

I really like talking to her. It is interesting to listen to her explanations and advice. They are always correct. I have convinced myself of this many times. They say that my mother and I are very similar. I am proud of this. We do all the housework together. After all, it's more fun together. We prepare dinners for our men, bake pies, and put the house in order. My mother teaches me to knit and sew clothes for my dolls and daughters. I can't cope without my mother. I cannot live without her tenderness, kindness and affection, so I really appreciate and feel sorry for my mom.

My second best friend is my dad.

His name is Eldar Ilfatovich. I don’t see my dad much because he works a lot. He leads a team of oil workers. His team repairs oil wells. He has a very responsible position. He has to go to work even on weekends. It's great if dad has a day off! I love playing with him, it can be very noisy and fun. He knows how to come up with very interesting games and performances. Our dad is kind and affectionate. He buys gifts for the whole family and arranges all sorts of surprises for us.I respect my dad very much, love and obey him.

I also want to talk about Rizvan. Rizwan is my younger brother. He is very kind, sociable, and cheerful. Now I'm teaching him to read. He is a diligent student. He and I have already learned half the letters of the alphabet. He is the best in the world!

From early childhood, when I was still in diapers, I was raised not only by my parents, but also by my grandmother Fanilya Rizvanovna, she is 72 years old. I just call her “grandmother.” She and I are very good friends. We love to talk, in the summer we weed and water the beds together, pick berries, and feed the turkey poults. She always tries to help me and I love her very much!

And my grandfather is Ilfat Islamovich. - an avid fisherman. Together with him, we often go fishing throughout the Tuymazinsky district. My grandfather and I catch crucian carp, perch, and also pick mushrooms and berries. There are especially many of them in Ermekeevo. We go there to visit my grandfather’s brother, who lives in the lap of nature. There are even hives with bees, I find it very interesting to watch them.The smell of honey and fresh sour cream on a slice of warm bread... This will stay with me for the rest of my life.

We have a pet - a parrot, his name is Innocent. I adore our little prankster. Kesha is everyone's favorite. When we let him out of the cage, we play catch with him, I run around the rooms, and he, like a small airplane, catches up with me. He likes to misbehave - he pecks wallpaper, he likes to “read” newspapers.

I also like to spend my holidaysin the Bashkir village of Nichka-Bulyak.

Already approaching my great-grandmother’s old house, I begin to worry. My beloved grandparents, mother and father, uncles and aunts grew up here. All my sisters and brothers and their parents gather here every time for Sabantuy and other national holidays. What our ancestors teach is not forgotten. And we, while still children, live, absorbing traditions - we hear folk tales from our grandmothers, mothers sing lullabies to us in their native language, brothers and fathers participate in national competitions, beautiful sisters dance in Bashkir costumes.

That's what my family is like. I love her very much.

I'm happy. And happiness, in my opinion, is having parents, being close to your family, living in your homeland.

Although I have a small family, it is very friendly. It consists of a mother and father, a younger sister and a cat.
Mom and dad are very cheerful people, they never quarrel, they have lived in perfect harmony for fifteen years. My dad works in the city administration, and my mother is a teacher of Russian language and literature at my school. My sister went to first grade this year, is interested in sports ballroom dancing and loves to draw.
In addition, the cat Vaska lives with us. When I get bored, I play with it. It is very interesting, soft and warm. I love my parents, sister and cat very much, they are my support and hope for the future.

Let's look at how to write a story and write about our family.

Writing a story

This concept refers to the genre of short narrative prose, in which the writer presents information on a pre-selected topic, where he sets out a story and shares his experiences.

The story consists of:

• an introductory word or plot, the purpose of which is to capture the attention of readers from the first lines;
• the main plot, which sets out the main essence of the topic;
• conclusions or plot, to emphasize important points in the story.

My family

What could be better than home comfort and family relaxation? Every person lives in a society, in a state, in a large family. Each person has his own characteristics and his own view on any matter, and the family is his closest circle. The first years of a person’s life depend on the immediate environment. My family consists of five people: my mother, my father, my grandmother and my sister.

As a child, I spent a lot of time in the village where my grandmother lives. During the summer holidays, I helped my grandmother with housework and listened to stories about life, as well as advice and instructions.

My dad works as an engineer and loves technical devices. As a child, I myself twisted and folded the construction set a lot, probably because I was all like my father. Dad also likes to go fishing and pick mushrooms. We often fish and I have already gotten good at fishing with a fishing rod.

My mother works as a nurse and helps people, for which they are very grateful to her. Mom also likes to go shopping and make purchases. I often go shopping with her and buy groceries or clothes. We know many stores and that there may be promotions there - a time when you can get what you want with discounts.

My sister knows English well and teaches me it. I also love learning a new language, as it is interesting and allows me to read and understand new information. English is an international language and by studying it, I learn more about the world around me and share this information with my family.

I myself love to learn and share new knowledge with others - it’s interesting and useful.

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

Little Galinka came home from school. She opened the door and wanted to say something cheerfully to her mother. But mom threatened Galinka with her finger and whispered:

- Quiet, Galinka, grandma is resting. I didn’t sleep the whole night, my heart hurt.

Galinka quietly walked up to the table and put down her briefcase. I had lunch and sat down to study homework. He reads the book quietly, to himself, so as not to wake up his grandmother.

The door opened and Olya, Galinka’s friend, came. She said loudly:

- Galinka, listen...

Galinka shook her finger at her, like a mother, and whispered:

- Quiet, Olya, grandma is resting. She didn’t sleep the whole night, her heart ached.

The girls sat down at the table and looked at the drawings.

And two tears rolled out from grandma’s closed eyes.

When the grandmother stood up, Galinka asked:

- Grandma, why did you cry in your sleep?

Grandmother smiled and kissed Galinka. Joy shone in her eyes.

Big birch

N. M. Artyukhova

Mom stood in the kitchen with a towel on her shoulder, drying the last cup. Suddenly Gleb’s frightened face appeared at the window.

Aunt Zina! Aunt Zina! - he shouted. - Your Alyosha has gone crazy!

Zinaida Lvovna! - Volodya looked through another window. - Your Alyoshka climbed a big birch tree!

After all, he can break loose! - Gleb continued in a tearful voice. - And it will break...

The cup slipped out of my mother’s hands and fell to the floor with a clatter.

Shattered! - Gleb finished, looking with horror at the white shards.

Mom ran out onto the terrace and went to the gate:

Where is he?

Yes, here, on the birch tree!

Mom looked at the white trunk, at the place where it split in two. Alyosha was not there.

Stupid jokes, guys! - she said and went to the house.

No, we’re telling the truth! - Gleb shouted. - He's there, at the very top! Where the branches are!

Mom finally understood where to look. She saw Alyosha. She measured with her eyes the distance from its branch to the ground, and her face became almost as white as this smooth birch trunk.

Crazy! - Gleb repeated.

Shut up! - Mom said quietly and very sternly. - Both go home and sit there.

She approached the tree.

“Well, Alyosha,” she said, “are you doing well?”

Alyosha was surprised that his mother was not angry and spoke in such a calm, gentle voice.

It’s good here,” he said. - But I’m very hot, mommy.

“It’s nothing,” my mother said, “sit down, rest a little and start going down.” Just don't rush. Little by little... Have you rested? - she asked after a minute.

Rested.

Well then, come down.

Alyosha, holding onto a branch, was looking for somewhere to put his foot. At this time, an unfamiliar fat summer resident appeared on the path. He heard voices, looked up and shouted fearfully and angrily:

Where have you gotten to, you worthless boy! Get down now!

Alyosha shuddered and, without calculating the movement, put his foot on a dry twig. The twig crunched and rustled down to my mother's feet.

Not so, said my mother. - Stand on the next branch.

Then she turned to the summer resident:

Don't worry, please, he is very good at climbing trees. He's great for me!

The small, light figure of Alyosha slowly descended. It was easier to climb up. Alyosha is tired. But his mother stood below, giving him advice, speaking kind, encouraging words. The earth was getting closer and shrinking. Now neither the field beyond the ravine nor the factory chimney is visible. Alyosha reached the fork.

Take a break,” Mom said. - Well done! Well, now put your foot on this branch... No, not there, that one is dry, here, to the right... Well, well, don’t rush.

The ground was very close. Alyosha hung in his arms, stretched out and jumped onto the high stump from which he began his journey.

The fat, unfamiliar summer resident grinned, shook his head and said:

Oh well! You will be a parachutist!

And mom grabbed her thin, tanned, scratched legs and shouted:

Alyoshka, promise me that you will never, never climb so high again!

She quickly walked towards the house. Volodya and Gleb were standing on the terrace. Mom ran past them, through the garden, to the ravine. She sat down in the grass and covered her face with a scarf. Alyosha followed her, embarrassed and confused. He sat down next to her on the slope of a ravine, took her hands, stroked her hair and said:

Well, mommy, well, calm down... I won't be so high! Well, calm down!

It was the first time he saw his mother cry.

Come on, look what kind of guest we have! - Dad called me loudly, when I was still fumbling with sandals in the corridor, having come from the street.

All good people are one family

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

In the second grade there was a drawing lesson. The children drew a swallow.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door. The teacher opened the door and saw a tear-stained woman - the mother of little white-haired, blue-eyed Natasha.

“I ask you,” the mother turned to the teacher, “to let Natasha go.” Grandmother died.

The teacher walked up to the table and said quietly:

- Children, great grief has come. Natasha's grandmother died. Natasha turned pale. Her eyes filled with tears. She leaned on her desk and cried quietly.

- Go home, Natasha. Mom came for you.

– While the girl was getting ready to go home, the teacher said:

“We won’t have lessons today either.” After all, there is great grief in our family.

– This is in Natasha’s family? – asked Kolya.

“No, in our human family,” the teacher explained. - All good people are one family. And if someone in our family died, we were orphaned.

Gorbushka

Boris Almazov

Grishka from our middle group brought a plastic straw to kindergarten. First he whistled at it, and then he began to spit plasticine balls out of it. He spat on the sly, and our teacher Inna Konstantinovna did not see anything.

That day I was on duty in the canteen. Inna Konstantinovna says that this is the most responsible post. The most important thing is to serve the soup, because you can’t take the plate by the edges - you can dip your fingers, but carry it hot on your palms! But I finished all the soup well. Just great! I didn’t even spill it on the tables! He began to put the bread on plates and bread bins, then all the guys came, and this Grishka with his straw. I took the tray to the kitchen, and carried one of the pinks in my hand - I kept them for myself, I love pinks very much. Then Grishka will blow on me! A plasticine ball hit me right on the forehead and bounced into my bowl of soup! Grishka started laughing, and the guys started giggling too. They laugh at me because a ball hit me in the forehead.

I felt so offended: I tried, I was on duty with all my might, but he hit me in the face, and everyone laughed. I grabbed my little hump and threw it at Grishka. I'm very good at throwing! Apt! Hit him right on the back of the head. He even gasped - wow, what a hump! Not some kind of plasticine ball. The hump bounced off his shorn head and rolled across the floor across the entire dining room for a long time - that’s how hard I threw it!

But the dining room immediately became quiet, because Inna Konstantinovna blushed and started looking at me! She bent down, slowly picked up the top, blew the dust off it and placed it on the edge of the table.

“After a quiet hour and afternoon tea,” she said, “everyone will go for a walk, and Seryozha will stay in the playroom and carefully think about his action.” Seryozha goes to kindergarten alone, but I feel I need to talk to his parents. Seryozha! Let your dad or mom come tomorrow!

When I came home, dad had already returned from work and was reading the newspaper, lying on the sofa. He gets very tired at his factory; once he even fell asleep during lunch.

- Well how are you? - he asked.

“It’s normal,” I answered and hurried to my corner to go to my toys. I thought dad would read his newspaper again, but he rolled it up, got up from the sofa and squatted down next to me.

– Is everything so normal?

- Yes OK! All is good! Wonderful... - and I load the dump truck with cubes faster, but for some reason they don’t load, they just jump out of my hands.

- Well, if everything is wonderful, then why do some people come into the room wearing a hat and, having come from the street, do not wash their hands?

And indeed, I forgot to wash my hands while wearing a hat!

- In general, yes! - Dad said when I returned from the bathroom. - Tell me, what happened to you?

“Because Inna Konstantinovna,” I say, “is an unjust person!” He doesn’t understand, but he punishes! Grishka was the first to throw a ball at me in the forehead, and then I hit him with a ball... He was the first, and she punished me!

- What kind of hump?

- Ordinary! From round bread. Grishka started it first, and I was punished! Is this fair?

Dad didn’t answer, he just sat down on the sofa, hunched over, and hung his hands between his knees. His hands are so big and his veins are like ropes. He was very upset.

“What do you think,” asked dad, “why were you punished?”

- Don't fight! But Grishka was the first to start!

- So! - said dad. - Come on, bring me my folder. It's on the table, in the bottom drawer.

Dad very rarely gets her. This is a large leather folder. There are daddy's certificates of honor, photographs of how he served in the navy. (I will also be a sailor when I grow up). Dad took out not photographs of his fellow sailors, but an envelope made of yellowed paper.

– Have you ever wondered why you don’t have grandparents?

“I was thinking about it,” I said. - This is very bad. Some guys have two grandfathers and two grandmothers, but I have none...

- Why aren’t they there? - Dad asked.

– They died in the war.

“Yes,” said dad. He took out a narrow strip of paper. “Notice,” he read, and I saw my dad’s chin tremble finely and frequently: “Having shown courage and heroism as part of the amphibious assault, he died a heroic death...” - this is one of your grandfathers. My father. And this: “Died of wounds and general physical exhaustion...” - this is your second grandfather, your mother’s father.

- And the grandmothers! – I shouted, because I felt very sorry for them all.

– They died during the siege. You know about the blockade. The Nazis surrounded our city, and Leningrad was left completely without food.

- And without bread? – these words came out in a whisper.

- They gave out one hundred and twenty-five grams a day... One piece, the kind you eat at lunch...

- That's all?

- And that’s all... And this bread was with chaff and pine needles... Siege bread, in general.

Dad took a photograph out of the envelope. Schoolchildren were filmed there. All have close-cropped hair and are terribly thin.

“Well,” said dad, “find me.”

All the guys looked alike, like brothers. They had tired faces and sad eyes.

“Here,” dad pointed to the boy in the second row. - And here is your mother. I would never have recognized her at all. I thought: this is a boy of about five.

– This is our orphanage. They didn’t have time to take us out, and we were in Leningrad throughout the blockade. Sometimes soldiers or sailors came to us and brought a whole duffel bag of bread. Our mother was very little and rejoiced: “Bread! Bread!”, and we, the older guys, already understood that the soldiers had given us their daily rations and, therefore, they were sitting there in the trenches in the cold completely hungry...

“I grabbed my dad with my arms and shouted:

- Daddy! Punish me however you want!

- What you! – Dad picked me up. - Just understand, son, bread is not just food... And you throw it on the floor...

- I will never do it again! – I whispered.

“I know,” said dad.

We stood at the window. Our big Leningrad, covered with snow, glowed with lights and was so beautiful, as if New Year was coming!

- Dad, when you come to kindergarten tomorrow, tell me about the bread. Tell all the guys, even Grishka...

“Okay,” said dad, “I’ll come and tell you.”

Birthday lunch

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

Nina has a large family: mother, father, two brothers, two sisters, grandmother.

Nina is the smallest: she is nine years old. Grandmother is the eldest; she is eighty-two years old.

When the family is having dinner, grandma's hand trembles. Everyone is used to it and tries not to notice.

If someone looks at grandma’s hand and thinks: why is it trembling? – her hand trembles even more. The grandmother is carrying a spoon - the spoon is shaking, droplets are dripping onto the table.

Nina's birthday is coming soon. Mother said that there would be lunch on her name day. She and her grandmother will bake a big sweet pie. Let Nina invite her friends.

Guests arrived. Mom sets the table with a white tablecloth. Nina thought: Grandma will sit down at the table, and her hand will tremble. Your friends will laugh and tell everyone at school.

Nina said quietly to her mother:

- Mom, don’t let grandma sit at the table today...

- Why? - Mom was surprised.

- Her hand is shaking... It’s dripping on the table...

Mom turned pale. Without saying a word, she took the white tablecloth off the table and hid it in the closet.

Mom sat silently for a long time, then said:

- Our grandmother is sick today. There will be no birthday dinner.

Happy birthday to you, Nina. My wish for you: be a real person.

How the Nightingale gives water to her babies

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

The Nightingale has three chicks in the nest. All day long Nightingale brings them food - bugs, flies, spiders. The nightingales have eaten and are sleeping. And at night, already before dawn, they ask you to drink. The Nightingale flies into the grove. There is pure, pure dew on the leaves. The Nightingale finds the purest drop of dew, takes it in her beak and flies to the nest, bringing it to her children to drink. Places a drop on a leaf. Nightingales drink water. And at this time the sun rises. The Nightingale flies again for insects.

How Vasilko was born

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

- Children, today is the birthday of your friend Vasilka. Today you, Vasilko, turn eight years old. Congratulations on your birthday. I’ll tell you, children, how Vasilko was born.

Vasilko was not yet in the world, his father worked as a tractor driver, and his mother worked in the silkworm production department.

The tractor driver's young wife was preparing to become a mother. In the evening, the young husband got ready to take his wife to the maternity hospital tomorrow.

At night a snowstorm broke out, a lot of snow fell, and the roads were covered with snowdrifts. The car could not move, and there was no way to postpone the trip, the young woman felt: a child would soon be born. The husband left to get the tractor, and at this time his wife began to experience terrible pain.

The husband adapted a large sled to the tractor, laid his wife on it, left the house, and it was seven kilometers to the maternity hospital. The snowstorm does not stop, the steppe is covered with a white veil, the wife is moaning, the tractor is barely making its way through the snowdrifts.

Halfway there it became impossible to go further, the tractor sank in the snowdrifts, and the engine stalled. A young husband approached his wife, lifted her from the sleigh, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her in his arms, with incredible difficulty getting out of one snowdrift and plunging into another.

The snowstorm raged, the snow blinded his eyes, the husband was sweating, his heart was beating out of his chest; it seemed that one more step and he would no longer have the strength, but at the same time it was clear to the man that if he stopped for even a minute, he would die.

After a few tens of meters, he stopped for a moment, took off his coat, remaining in a padded jacket.

The wife was moaning in his arms, the wind was howling in the steppe, and the husband in these moments was not thinking about anything except the small living creature that was about to be born and for which he, the young tractor driver Stepan, is responsible to his wife, to his father and mother, to his grandfather and my grandmother, before the entire human race, before my conscience.

The young father walked four terrible kilometers for several hours; He knocked on the door of the maternity hospital in the evening; knocked, handed his wife wrapped in a blanket into the hands of the nurses and fell unconscious. When they unrolled the blanket, the amazed doctors could not believe their eyes: next to his wife lay a child - alive, strong. He had just been born, the mother began to feed her son right there in the corridor, and the doctors surrounded the bed in which the father lay.

For ten days Stepan was between life and death.

Doctors saved his life.

This is how Vasilko was born.

Who is taking whom home?

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

There are two five-year-old boys in kindergarten - Vasilko and Tolya. Their mothers work on a cattle farm. At six o'clock in the evening they go to the kindergarten to pick up the children.

Mom dresses Vasilka, takes him by the hand, leads him along and says:

- Let's go home, Vasilko.

And Tolya dresses himself, takes his mother’s hand, leads her along and says:

- Let's go home, mom. The road was covered with snow. There is only a narrow path in the snow. Vasilko’s mother walks through the snow, and her son walks along the path. After all, she is taking Vasilko home.

Tolya walks through the snow, and mom walks along the path. After all, Tolya is taking his mother home.

Twelve years have passed. Vasilko and Tolya became strong, slender, handsome young men.

In winter, when the roads were covered with deep snow, Vasilka’s mother became seriously ill.

On the same day, Tolya’s mother also fell ill.

The doctor lived in a neighboring village, five kilometers away.

Vasilko went outside, looked at the snow and said:

- Is it possible to walk in such snow? – He stood for a while and returned to the house.

And Tolya walked through the deep snow to a neighboring village and returned with a doctor.

The most tender hands

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

A little girl came with her mother to the big city. They went to the market. The mother led her daughter by the hand. The girl saw something interesting, clapped her hands with joy and got lost in the crowd. I got lost and cried.

- Mother! Where is my mom?

People surrounded the girl and asked:

-What's your name, girl?

– What’s your mother’s name? Tell me, we'll find her right away.

- Mom's name…. mom... mommy...

People smiled, reassured the girl and asked again:

- Well, tell me, what kind of eyes does your mother have: black, blue, blue, gray?

– Her eyes... are the kindest...

- And the braids? Well, what kind of hair does mom have, black or blond?

– Hair... the most beautiful...

People smiled again. They ask:

- Well, tell me what her hands are like... Maybe she has some kind of mole on her hand, remember.

“Her hands... are the most affectionate.”

And they announced on the radio:

“The girl is lost. Her mother has the kindest eyes, the most beautiful braids, the most affectionate hands in the world.”

And mom was found immediately.

Seventh daughter

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

Mother had seven daughters. One day a mother went to visit her son, but the son lived far, far away. Mother returned home a month later.

When she entered the hut, the daughters, one after another, began to say how much they missed their Mother.

“I missed you like a poppy misses a ray of sunshine,” said the first daughter.

“I was waiting for you, like dry earth waiting for a drop of water,” said the second daughter.

“I cried for you like a little chick cries for a bird...” cooed the third daughter.

“It was difficult for me without you, like a bee without a flower,” said the fourth daughter, caressing her mother and looking into her eyes.

“I dreamed of you like a rose dreams of a drop of dew,” chirped the fifth daughter.

“I looked out for you like a nightingale looks out for a cherry orchard,” whispered the sixth daughter.

But the seventh daughter said nothing, although she had a lot to say. She took off Mother’s shoes and brought her water in a large basin to wash her feet.

The Tale of the Goose

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

On a hot summer day, a goose took her little yellow geese for a walk. She showed the children the big world. This world was green and joyful - a huge meadow spread out in front of the goslings. The goose taught the children to pluck the tender stems of young grass. The stems were sweet, the sun was warm and gentle, the grass was soft, the world was green and singing with many voices of bugs, butterflies, and moths. The goslings were happy.

Suddenly dark clouds appeared and the first drops of rain fell to the ground. And then large hailstones, like sparrow eggs, began to fall. The goslings ran to their mother, she raised her wings and covered her children with them. It was warm and cozy under the wings, the goslings heard as if from somewhere far away came the roar of thunder, the howl of the wind and the sound of hailstones. They even began to have fun: something terrible was happening behind their mother’s wings, and they were warm and comfortable.

Then everything calmed down. The goslings wanted to quickly go to the green meadow, but the mother did not raise her wings. The goslings squealed demandingly: let us out, mom.

The mother quietly raised her wings. The goslings ran out onto the grass. They saw that the mother’s wings were wounded and many feathers were torn out. The mother was breathing heavily. But the world around was so joyful, the sun shone so brightly and tenderly, the bugs, bees, and bumblebees sang so beautifully that for some reason it never occurred to the goslings to ask: “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” And when one, the smallest and weakest gosling came up to his mother and asked: “Why are your wings wounded?” - She answered quietly: “Everything is fine, my son.”

The yellow goslings scattered on the grass, and the mother was happy.

Everyone has their own happiness

Tamara Lombina

Fedka has long dreamed of a bicycle. He even dreamed about it: red, with a shiny steering wheel and a bell. You drive, and the meter clicks, clicks! – counts how many kilometers you have clocked up.

And yesterday he simply couldn’t believe his eyes: they bought a bicycle for the son of farmer Avdeev Vaska. Exactly the one Fedka dreamed of! If only it had been a different color or something...

Fedka never seemed to be envious, but here he even cried into his pillow, he was so sorry for his dream. He didn’t pester his mother with questions about when they would buy him a bike too - he knows that his parents don’t have money.

And now Vaska rushed past his yard... Fedka was watering the holes with cucumbers and quietly swallowing his tears.

As always, on time, Uncle Ivan burst into the yard with noise, laughter and such a familiar cough. Unlucky, that's what his relatives called him. He graduated from some very smart institute and came to his native village. There is no work for his head here and there won’t be, and the guy didn’t want any other job; he got a job tending the horses of the Avdeevs.

It’s amazing how he always manages to understand that Fedka is in trouble.

“Fedul, did he pout his lips,” his uncle asked, looking slyly into his eyes, “did he burn his caftan?”

But then Vaska rushed past the yard, calling like crazy. Uncle Ivan looked at Fedka knowingly.

“Will you go with me at night tonight?” – he suddenly suggested.

- Can? Will mom let you in?

“Yes, we’ll persuade the two of us,” assured the cheerful guy.

How wonderful this uncle Ivan is!

In the evening he arrived on a white Orlik, and Ognivko, a young red horse with thin legs, a fiery mane, and huge and cunning eyes, ran next to Orlik. Fedka himself doesn’t remember how he sat down on Ognivka. Under the envious glances of the boys, they drove through the entire village, and then rode through the meadow through the clouds. Yes, yes, Uncle Ivan said that clouds come down to their Silver Log at night to sleep until the morning. It’s so great to ride through the cloud, completely surrendering to Ognivok’s instincts. And then, right on horseback, they rode into a river as warm as fresh milk. Ognivko turned out to be so smart, they played so well with him in the water! Fedka was hiding behind other horses, and he found him and managed to grab him by the ear with soft lips...

Already exhausted, Fedka climbed ashore. Ognivko was still running around with the foals, playing, and then he came and lay down next to Fedka. Uncle Ivan cooked fish soup. When only he manages to do everything. When did he manage to catch the fish?

Fedka lay down on his back and... closed his eyes - the sky was looking at him with all the stars. The fire smelled deliciously of smoke and fish soup, but Ognivok, his breath, felt so calm. It was nice to feel such a lively smell of a young half-foal, half-horse. The crickets sang some kind of endless song of happiness.

Fedka even laughed: the dreamed bicycle now seemed so unnecessary and ugly here, next to the stars. Fedka hugged Ognivok and felt that his soul soared high, high, to the stars. For the first time he understood what happiness was.

Yurko - Timurovite

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

Third-grader Yurko became a Timurovite. Even the commander of a small Timurov detachment. There are nine boys in his squad. They help two grandmothers who live on the outskirts of the village. They planted apple trees and roses near their huts and watered them. They bring water, go to the store for bread.

Today is a rainy autumn day. Yurko and the boys went to chop wood for their grandmother. I came home tired and angry.

He took off his shoes and hung up his coat. Both boots and coat are covered in mud.

Yurko sat down at the table. Mom serves him lunch, and grandmother washes his shoes and cleans his coat.

I won't do it anymore

Vasily Sukhomlinsky

In the spring, fifth-graders helped collective farmers plant watermelons and melons. The work was supervised by two old men - grandfather Dmitry and grandfather Dementy. Both of them were gray-haired, both had wrinkled faces. They seemed the same age to the children. None of the children knew that grandfather Dementy was the father of grandfather Dmitry, one of them was ninety years old, and the other was over seventy.

And so it seemed to grandfather Dementiy that his son had incorrectly prepared the watermelon seeds for planting. The surprised children heard grandfather Dementy begin to teach grandfather Dmitry:

- How slow you are, son, how slow-witted... I’ve been teaching you for ages and I can’t teach you. Watermelon seeds need to be kept warm, but what did you do? They are cold... They will sit motionless in the ground for a week...

Grandfather Dmitry stood in front of grandfather Dementy, like a seven-year-old boy: straight, shifting from foot to foot, bowing his head... and whispered respectfully:

- Tattoo, this won’t happen again, sorry, tattoo...

The children thought. Each of them remembered their father.