Son

He is our firstborn and he uses all of his privileges.

Голос ребенка
Авторы: О.Фельцман – М.Рябинин

1. Каким человек рождается -
Природы великое таинство,
Он смотрит глазами прозрачными
На мир удивленно и весело.
И мать с невесомою нежностью,
Качая ребенка уснувшего,
Мечтает отдать ему лучшее,
Что в сердце своем сберегла.

Так пусть звучит музыкой звонкой,
На этой земле, населенной людьми,
Голос ребенка, голос ребенка,
Вечная тема, вечная тема нашей любви.
Вечная тема, вечная тема нашей любви.

2. Каким человек рождается -
Природы великое таинство,
Шаги его первые робкие
Началом дороги окажутся.
Отец с неподдельною гордостью,
Подняв малыша к небу синему,
Мечтает отдать ему лучшее,
Что может отдать человек.

3. Каким человек рождается -
Природы великое таинство,
И все же мы в праве надеяться,
Что жизнь у него будет долгою,
Что будет он добрым и ласковым,
Что будет он честным и преданным,
Что будет он смелым и яростным,
Сражаясь за счастье людей.

Children

They are the fragrant aroma to life, the laughter of the youth days.

Motherhood

She met plenty of mothers who complained that they did not have time for their own life and all the life they had was spent on their children, who when they had grown, left the house and went on with their private lives. She met even those mothers who wished they didn't have their children, not because children brought any weight in their life - because they never wanted to be mothers.

This brave one heard a lady share that motherhood was like a spider's web and being a mother was like a spider, who was defined and constrained by its own web.

But she was all expectant, she was full of delight waiting in her anticipation for a new life, which she thought was a gift, that will be unwrapped as life will unfold, year after year. She was planning to invest everything she had, her best, without any reservation, fear and shadowed views of others.

Son

Every night I have him by my side; he hugs me and leans towards me. I can feel the heat of his body and smell his milky sweat. I want to treasure these days, the nights, our little walks, our little talks.

I love his little hands with his fast fingers that get into my plate, overturn the cup, sweep the floor dust, those hands that hug me just like that, in the middle of a small game that he has with his puzzle mat.

I love his little kisses and the little bites.

I love the excitement in his voice when he just wakes up and his beautiful heart-warming smile.

You are my son, my first born, my treasure and my joy.

His Heart

I almost could hear his heart break, but he did not show a sign, not even in his eyes. He was strong as ever, loving as ever, as if there was no limit to his kind human nature.

I often wondered if late at night, or early in the morning - when the stars are still bright and every soul deep in sleep - he cries. Ever.

I saw him picking up the cups and going to the kitchen. He moved slowly and it seemed he forgot about his scheduled meeting. He didn't say a word. No, there was no anger, not even a drop. He breathed deeply, left the cups in the sink, washed his hands, gave me a kiss and went.

Went to come back.