A three-year-old boy is staring at me with his little head bent backwards and his beautiful blue eyes wide open. His arms are lifted in a request, and my heart melts when he stands on tiptoe.
I bend down and pick him up, while his short arms surround my neck.
«You ran away from your lessons again,» this voice says in a vain attempt to sound stern.
«I wanted to see mother,» the little boy replies.
«I'd like to see her too, but she's working.»
«She is always so busy,» he complains.
Oh, what kind of mother would leave such a cute thing alone? His dark hair makes a contrast with his eyes. A little nose covers his thin heart-shaped lips, and his rosy cheeks are round like apples. I'd pinch them if only I could move these hands.
Unfortunately, this is only a dream.
When I wake up, I'm resting in my bed. Oh, good. Someone thought of bringing me here.
