"Everyone around knows how to live right. Mouse Glykeria knows how to live with pleasure. She composes white as milk poetry and collects real treasures - maple airplanes, old coins, chocolate wrappers and fragments of Christmas balls. Every time she tries to do something "as is customary", adventures begin, and everything turns out in her own way in the end" - could it really be possible to pass by a book with such an annotation? I didn’t pass, because Glyceria is a little about me. And, I'm willing to argue, about many of you too!

Our copy of Glykeria was published in 2012 by the Pink Giraffe publishing house.
Under the bright cover hidden 12 endlessly glorious stories about the mouse Glykeria, created by Dina Sabitova (text) and Alika Kalaida (illustrations).
The latter, by the way, has a blog in LiveJournal rikki_t_tavi , which I try not to enter until all the work is done, and even when done - with caution, because I stick tightly. There is something beautiful to see and something interesting to read. Consider this to be both a mandatory recommendation and a warning.
But let's not get carried away!
So, mouse Glyceria! A charming young lady who loves all sorts of little things, especially spoons, and very bright and delightfully useless things, prefers comfortable shoes (if it’s indecent to walk barefoot), is going to knit herself a lace hood, and knows that beautiful names can be worn like dresses, in special cases. Well, or just - on Tuesday and Thursday ...

She is also unhappy with her tail. Although, as for me, Glyceria is perfect everywhere, a little more than completely!

Here, for example, can such a sensitive mouse be imperfect? A mouse that writes white verses with a silver pencil in a red silk-bound notebook * and talks about how an amphibrach is like a gray flannel rag?

*do you still know how important silver pencils, beautiful notebooks and other amenities are for poets, writers, artists and other Very Creative mice, without which inspiration does not come?

How can a mouse that can sing be imperfect? True, it is not always clear what exactly she sang, but the main thing is HOW, and not what.

And Glyceria is very kind. And he tries not to offend anyone. Even a pocket from which everything is lost. And even a ravine with thorns!

And she, just like me, does not like watches ...

And he loves blueberries!

Well, isn't she perfect?

Yes, perhaps she is not a very athletic mouse, and does not like bicycles that strive to grab the hem of her dress, throw them into nettles and fall from above. And hit EVERYWHERE!

And with skis, she somehow doesn’t add up very well ...

Well, okay! We will replace the bicycle with a scooter, we will have a conversation with skis, and instead of uncomfortable shoes we will buy sneakers!

Because you need to live with pleasure, and not as dictated by "old acquaintances with a neatly combed tail in the middle"!

As for the tail or any other parts of the body that are not perfect enough in your opinion, you can simply say to yourself: "I'm not a mouse! I'm a Mexican jerboa! And my tail is not naked. It's just covered with extremely delicate fur. So valuable .. so rare fur. "And it will become easier for you, and the tail, because you will love it.

And this is my favorite illustration in the book:

I terribly like the keys on the apple tree, and Glykeria's bare feet are somehow especially good here, and the rug is wonderful, and the page breathes such peace.

But this one is especially exciting:

Girl on the Ball!)

P.S. And there is no backstage with Jerry today, the cat said that he did not want to have anything to do with the book about the mouse. It would be about a cat - then another matter.

Children's book: “Mouse Glyceria. Colored and striped days "(Dina Sabitova)

To open the book Online click (90 pages)
The book is adapted for smartphones and tablets!

Text only:

Content
Mouse Glyceria and Tomato Sauce
Mouse Glyceria and small pimples
Mouse Glyceria and good dreams
Mouse Glyceria and cold okroshka
Glyceria mouse and green box
Glyceria mouse and striped doormat
Glyceria mouse and silver pencil
Glyceria mouse and a clean fridge
Glyceria mouse and pickles
Mouse Glyceria and Blueberry Tea
Glyceria mouse and wooden sled
Mouse Glyceria and lace tails

Mouse Glyceria and Tomato Sauce
Glyceria the mouse stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself gloomily. I didn't like Glyceria. It seemed to Glyceria that her life had failed.
Here is the tail. Is it a tail? It's just indecent to call this skinny and bare squalor a tail. Of course, if you turn this sideways and bend your waist a little, then the nasty tail is almost invisible.
And you can imagine in his place... Imagine in his place...
The tail dangled back and forth, distracting Glyceria from thoughts of beauty ... The tail was nervous.
Wormtail felt like his life had failed.
Here is Glyceria. The tail, in its own way, loved Glykeria and served her all her life faithfully. It curled in a neat arc, or stuck up with a thin stem, or led the tip around - everything that Glyceria wanted - everything was done by the tail ...
Well, yes, every little rubbish often sticks to it, sometimes the tail was wet and, perhaps, not always clean ... But the tail tried hard. And then - are other mouse tails much better? No, some familiar tails are even shorter. And one closest relative - the rat tail - is completely bald.
Only Glyceria is unhappy with her tail. Of course, there are animals whose tail will be fluffier. But the tail itself is not to blame. Why was stupid Glyceria born a mouse? I would have been born...
“I would have been born, for example, a Mexican jerboa,” thought Glykeria at that time.
Once in a magazine, Glykeria saw a picture of something fluffy, covered with soft ashy soft fur. Glyceria did not know how to read at that time. But she decided: this is how the Mexican tush-can should look like - an animal distant and beautiful.
“Of course, of course, the tail of the Mexican jerboa is not my match,” thought Glykeria sadly in front of the mirror.
Then she went outside for a walk. She hid her tail under her skirt.
- Oh, Glyceria, how are you? - called her friends and acquaintances.
“Mexico,” thoughtfully thoughtful Glyceria answered friends and acquaintances at random. - Beautiful distant Mexico ... - and went on.
And friends whispered to acquaintances:
- What is she? He talks about Mexico... for good reason...
And Glyceria went further. She wanted to meet someone completely unfamiliar. Who has never, ever seen the pathetic Glyceria tail.
And someone unfamiliar met her.
- Hello, how are you? - politely started a conversation someone unfamiliar.
"Hello, great," replied Glyceria.
Then a brilliant idea occurred to her. And Glykeria added as if by chance.
- Let me introduce myself: Glyceria. Mexican jerboa.
- Very nice, - politely answered someone unfamiliar. - And my name is...
But Glyceria was not interested in listening further.
She walked and thought: “Now this stranger will tell everyone: “Today I met the beautiful Mexican jerboa Glyceria. She has a wonderful fluffy tail. How else? After all, all Mexican tush-cans have beautiful tails. So I have too."
Glyceria rushed home and stood in front of the mirror. The tail timidly appeared from under the skirt and timidly dangled to the right. And to the left.
“My God, how beautiful I am,” thought Glykeria. - I'm a Mexican jerboa. And I don't even have a bare tail. And just covered with extremely delicate fur. Such valuable… such rare fur,” said Glykeria, admiring the sparse hairs covering the pink skin of the tail. - He just needs to be taken care of. Smear it with something Mexican. For example, tomato sauce ... And I also need to order a hundred new business cards with the inscription “Glyceria. Mexican jerboa". In a silver frame.
With this pleasant thought, Glyceria went to bed. Her heart was good.
And the tail that night fell asleep almost peacefully. First, Glyceria fell in love with him. Secondly, she stopped hiding it under her clothes, where the tail was always stuffy and cramped. Thirdly, the sauce is not so bad. If only it wasn't too sharp.
Mouse Glyceria and small pimples
Glyceria the mouse always walked barefoot. She liked the way the grass tickled her hind legs. And she also liked to walk on smooth asphalt after the rain. And she liked the warm soft dust - her paw was buried in it up to her ankles. But Glyceria especially liked it if brown liquid mud came across along the way. Because it champs pleasantly when you trample on it. And sometimes it even turned out that a wonderful bubble popped up from under the fingers and burst thickly. And paws, neatly smeared with mud, Glyceria liked. Glyceria always imagined that she was wearing chocolate-colored fildepers stockings. Glyceria did not know what "fildepersovye" were. She read the word in an old magazine and remembered it.
One Wednesday, Glykeria was going to visit an old friend. An old acquaintance lived in the world for so long that she considered it indecent to run around the guests herself, like some young animal. Therefore, everyone came to visit her and brought gifts. And the hostess treated the visitors to currant tea with poppy seed roll.
Glyceria put on her favorite dress - well, the one with lilac flowers on the hem and striped sleeves - and went to visit. She walked barefoot and absent-mindedly thought that her little paws with neat fingers looked very cute from under the lilac frills.
As a gift to an old friend, this time she carried a skein of white thread. An old acquaintance was very fond of knitting napkins and has already knitted a thousand of them. Therefore, a new skein of thread was always welcome.
Glykeria knew the way by heart and could walk with her eyes closed. First, a few silk clover leaves, then to the right along loose hot sand for about three minutes, then along the edge of the path under the pines, along dry pine needles. If you put your paw carefully, you will never prick yourself.
- Hello, Glikeria, - said an old friend and held out her paw for a gift.
Glyceria placed a white ball in her outstretched paw and curtsied.
- You can not take off your shoes, go straight in your shoes, - continued the old acquaintance.
Then she added emphatically:
- After all, offering guests slippers is a bad form.
An old friend knew about good manners all.
Glyceria heard the offer not to take off her shoes and was a little confused.
She thought that when visiting, of course, one should try to fulfill the wishes of the hosts. Otherwise it will be impolite. And now, on the one hand, she does as she was told. That is, he does not take off his shoes. On the other hand, she cannot, as she was asked, walk straight in her shoes. After all, Glyceria does not have any shoes.
Glyceria stomped in embarrassment at the threshold. And she even began to squat a little to hide her bare feet under the lilac frill.
But I must admit that it was pleasant for bare feet visiting an old friend. Because the hallway was cool and smooth parquet. And when Glykeria nevertheless stepped into the living room, her paws fell right on the fluffy soft carpet.
- Oh, Glyceria, you can't be barefoot! the hostess exclaimed behind her back.
And all the guests turned to Glyceria.
- How cute! - said the lady with her tail neatly combed in the middle.
- What immediacy! - squinted the lady with famously tinted tassels on sharp ears.
- Charming! - bowed her head a lady with a mustache powdered with silver powder.
Glyceria scratched her left hind paw with her right hind paw.
And looked at the guests.
Without exception, all the ladies were wearing high heels.
The ladies, seeing barefoot Glykeria, were very happy.
After all, do you need to do something while visiting? For example, playing “Who didn’t come today?”, Or counting silver forks, or coming up with topics for small talk.
And now everyone surrounded Glykeria and vying with each other began to advise her which shoes to buy. Definitely high heels. Because walking barefoot is indecent!
Glyceria sighed, turned around and went to the shoe store.
“If these shoes started talking,” thought Glykeria, moving in small steps along the shelves, “I would probably only address them as“ you ”. But I guess they wouldn't talk to me at all."
Stealthily, in a corner, Glykeria tried on a more modest pair. Legs arched like a wheel, knees trembled. Glyceria could walk, but only clinging to furniture and helping herself with her tail. There was mist in the eyes. In the fog it was not clear where the shoe noses ended.
Glyceria took off her shoes. Went further. The fog cleared.
- Oh, this is just for me. Unbearable beauty!
Found Glyceria shoes. The top is soft, blue, with zasle-buds. The laces are long, long and tied with large bows. Round toe, white. And the sole is white, even, with an embossed pattern. Corners, circles and small pimples.
Pimples Glyceria was especially fascinated.
I bought Glyceria blue sneakers.
The paw is comfortable.
Glyceria is walking home along a sandy path. Behind her, corners, circles and pimples stretch across the sand.
Glyceria turns around, admires the pimples.
And you can walk barefoot tomorrow.
Mouse Glyceria and good dreams
Mouse Glyceria decided to get herself a watch.
The thing is useless, but beautiful.
And Glyceria is not indifferent to beauty. Glyceria has a lot of such useless and beautiful things in the top drawer of her chest of drawers. And each thing has its own bag, box or casket.
All friends and acquaintances know: rather than throwing away an unnecessary thing, it is better to take it to Glyceria. Glyceria will be delighted and will put it in the top drawer of the chest of drawers. There she has a strict order. Shards from Christmas balls of blue color- in a white box, pasted over with blue candy wrappers. And the fragments of red color - of course, in a silver bag of chips. Peach pits in a cookie box. The buttons on the fishing line are collected.
Well, and so on.
Every Wednesday, Glykeria opens the chest of drawers and admires. And sometimes on Tuesday.
There is everything in the chest of drawers: velvet shreds, silk cords, simple and mother-of-pearl beads, broken nail scissors, shards of porcelain cups with flowers, fragments of a mirror, bitter chocolate wrappers, river shells, foreign coins, maple helicopters, three real crystal stoppers from the spirits
a clasp from a suede bag, a copper spring, a spoon for marmalade, five wallpaper studs with stars on their hats, dried figs, mica crumbs, watermelon seeds with a tiger pattern, and you have already seen splinters from Christmas balls, peach pits and buttons.
Only there is no clock.
- I need a watch, - said Glyceria to the seller in the store.
- A very useful thing! - admired the seller. - Here's our best watch.
Glyceria considered. If the clock is useful, then they must be used somehow.
And Glyceria does not know how to use them.
“Very simple,” said the salesman. - Hang them on the wall, on a strong carnation and you will look at them. Sometimes.
Strange salesman, Glyceria thought. - Here, for example, chocolate wrappers. I take them out of my daddy and look at them. They are no longer good for anything. They are very bright and delightfully useless. If you can only look at the clock, it means that they do not bring any benefit.
"I'll take it," Glyceria nodded.
She only clarified which carnation to hang the clock on - on a simple one or on a wallpaper one - and ran home with the clock.
The clock hangs on the wall. Glyceria admires them. Very beautifully they knock with their long tail. And the arrows are shining.
And then a friend called and said:
- I heard that you bought a watch?
“Yes, the very best,” Glyceria said modestly.
- So, at least today you will come to visit us on time?
"I'll come," Glyceria nodded amiably. - I'm going to.
- After half an hour? - the acquaintance doubted suspiciously.
"In half an hour," Glikeria readily agreed.
“Maybe in fifteen minutes?”
“In fifteen minutes,” Glykeria did not argue. And sat down to admire the clock.
“It sounds beautiful - “fifteen minutes,” thought Glykeria. “Don’t forget to check with a friend what that means.”
Suddenly, something blew up! And then how it boomed! Once again! Repeatedly!
- Oh, shut up immediately, I'm afraid! Glyceria screamed.
But the clock did not listen to her. And they only shut up when they wanted to.
“Night is coming soon,” thought Glykeria, crawling out from under the table. "Perhaps we shouldn't leave them in the house."
And took the clock out into the yard.
All night the clock wheezed and boomed. And Glykeria was peeping behind them through the window, hiding behind the curtain.
I returned them to the store this morning.
- These hours are wild, untrained. Do you have any small, harmless ones?
Here are the smallest ones. Only they are broken - they are late all the time, - said the seller and gave Glykeria a varnished wooden box.
In the box, someone clicked his tongue softly.
- I got myself a watch. Small, very tame, Glykeria boasted to friends and acquaintances.
The watch is indeed manual. At night they don’t make noise, they don’t wheeze, they don’t wake Glyceria.
At night, Glykeria puts the clock to sleep in the top drawer of the chest of drawers. Right between the marmalade scoop and the seashells. And they see all quiet good dreams.
And the fact that the clock is late is just that today they are in no hurry anywhere.
Like Glyceria.
Mouse Glyceria and cold okroshka
Mouse Glykeria put on her favorite dress - well, the same one, with striped sleeves and lilac flowers on the hem - and went out for a walk.
She walked first to the right - to a honeysuckle bush, then a little further - to a thicket of ferns, and then she felt a great desire to stop and say: “Ffuh!”
- Phew!!! Glyceria said. And added: - What a heat!
The air stood around Glyceria like a dense, hot cocoon. And even energetic ffuhaniya did not drive him away from Glyker's flushed cheeks.
Glyceria picked a burdock and made a fan out of it. But the downy fan only cooled the muzzle. And a little - ears. But my stomach was still hot.
Moreover, in order not to offend either one or the other cheek, Glykeria had to wave a burdock in front of her very nose. And because of this, she did not see at all where she was going.
And what kind of walk, pray tell, if you do not see the surroundings, but instead see burdock hanging in front of your nose?
Then Glyceria thought: “If I move quickly, quickly, it will turn out as if the wind is blowing on me.
After all, when you slide down a hill or swing on a carousel, the wind always blows in your face, even in calm weather.
Glyceria dropped the burdock and ran forward with all her paws.
The wind hit her in the face, but after a minute it became even hotter for some reason. Glyceria was out of breath and decided to stop. Her ears were wet and her nose was dripping.
And then Glykeria thought a little more and decided: something must be invented, so that it would carry her.
Glykeria went to a friend, and he gave her his bicycle. Ride.
- You know, - says one friend, - I think it's just right for you.
Glyceria is riding a bicycle. Glyceria's nose is white with fear. Now the right leg is high from the ground, then the left. Scary. Pedals champ, wheels buzz. The tail strives to get tangled in the spokes.
It's still hot. What a coolness here, when the bike will turn out from under Glyceria. Yes, and there is no time to look around. Nettle on the left, ditch on the right. Steers Glyceria, tries.
And then, in an instant, the walk ended. The bike clicked and grabbed Glyceria by the hem. And chewed her lilac flowers and frills.
-Ay! Glyceria screamed and flew off her bike.
Flying was close.
And the bike immediately fell on top of Glyceria and hit her everywhere.
“Thank you,” Glykeria politely thanked one of her acquaintances.
Returned the bike.
And she went to wash the frills and sew them in place. And apply a patch to the bump on the forehead.
And then, while the frills were drying, one acquaintance himself came to visit Glykeria. She fed him cold okroshka, and he said to her:
-I made a mistake. A bicycle is not for mice.
And gave her a scooter.
That lucky Glykeria!
The wheels are small, quiet, not scary at all. Nobody clicks at the knees. And the ground is very close - here are the wheels, here is the footboard, here are the Glykerin hind legs. The frill flutters over the grass.
Glyceria is rolling, pushing off the ground with her left paw. The breeze blows on Glyceria. Glyceria admires the surroundings.
Glyceria tied a balloon on the steering wheel - for beauty.
“Cold okroshka is a good thing. From her, very correct ideas appear in my head, ”thinks Glikeria.
Glyceria mouse and green box
The mouse Glyceria said to herself one Wednesday:
- The neighbor on the right is called Romuald. The neighbor on the left is called Andalusia. Here they are lucky.
And I'm Glyceria. That's disgusting.
“I wonder,” Glyceria sighed, “what kind of wasp bit my parents when they chose a name for me?”
Glykeria picked up the phone and called her parents.
And politely asked them about the wasp.
- Fu, how rude you are, Glykeria, - the parents were offended. And set off on the waves of their memory.
- You were a wonderful mouse, then still sweet and polite. Because at that time you were just born and did not know how to talk. And we thought - how cute it sounds: mouse Lusha.
“I was simply doomed to speech defects,” thought Glykeria. "A lisp mouse with a stupid name."
No, you can't put up with such a disgrace.
The mouse is a beautiful creature. You can't choose a name for her. Mice - they look like delicate flowers. And Glykeria will find such a name for herself - luxurious and elegant.
Rose… Aster… Senfolia holly.
Glyceria went to bed. He thinks: "Let me dream of a new name in a dream."
It popped up right away.
Glyceria jumped up and ran to the mirror. Looks - yes, exactly, it is! It!
- I'm Oleander! Both in front of Oleander and on the side. - And from the back of her head she looked at herself through a round hand mirror: - Oleander and nothing more.
Brilliant name!
Mouse Oleander outlined the first things in connection with the new name.
First, you need to call all your friends and acquaintances and explain to them that in the phone books she is now written with the letter "O".
And then they will call Glyceria, but there is no Glyceria here. This is how friends get lost. And it hurts to lose friends.
Secondly, we urgently need to come up with an abbreviation for this name. No more mouse Lusha. Mouse Leah. Amazing!
Friends and acquaintances were very surprised, but they agreed to record Oleandra as "O". By the time I called everyone, the evening had come.
Then Oleander the mouse went into the bedroom and took out a green casket where the scattered beads were kept. So far, the beads have been poured into a saucer, where the rings used to be. I put the rings in a bag, where foreign coins were kept before. She slipped the coins into a wooden box where a broken wrist watch lay. There was still a lot of space in the box - just the coins fit.
Then she washed her paws just in case.
The new name of the Olean mouse ... Glykeria carefully removed the mouse, wiped it with a soft cloth and put it in a green box. Let it lie. Next Wednesday she will get it and wear it a little again. Beautiful name. Elegant. Not every day to wear. And then it fades, it gets scratched.
“However,” thought Mouse Glyceria, “the green box is not so small. Quite a couple more names will fit freely.
They can be worn on Tuesday and Thursday.
Glyceria mouse and striped doormat
Mouse Glykeria likes to walk along a long linden alley. The paths there are clean, smooth, strewn with white sand. So the frills don’t cling to anything, they don’t gather dust, Glykeria took a walk, and they are as good as new. Here, walking along the slope of the ravine, in the thickets of burdock, Glykeria does not like at all. She sometimes tries to take a walk there - what if she is still unfair to the ravine? But then for a long time he rips out burdock balls from the folds of the dress. Yes, and you will not meet acquaintances in the ravine.
Not at all in the linden alley.
- Hello, how are you, Glyceria? - friends bow affably.
“And a good day to you,” Glikeria replies gravely. - I'm doing okay.
The alley is long, you can walk along it for a long time and count the lindens. True, on the sixteenth linden (next to it is just a blue bench with a curved back) Glyceria always gets lost, because her tongue gets tired of counting. And also because she does not like the number seventeen - it is somehow sharp, rough, Glyceria even gets goosebumps from it from her left ear to her tail.
But she is not at all upset that she has lost her way, but calmly thinks: “Half of the alley. Then another half, and you get a whole alley. How interesting. For some reason, two halves of an apple never, ever make a whole apple. No matter how many you count them, it's still just two halves of an apple."
While Glyceria is thinking about lindens and apples, it is time to turn back home. And then Glyceria begins to worry.
Here is a gate, here is an old apple tree, here is an inverted bucket with a hole (Glikeria does not throw it away for good, everyone thinks where it could fit. For example, you can go with it for water when there is already water in the house, but you want to take a walk).
Here is the porch.
And Glyceria becomes more preoccupied with every step, and behind her ears it becomes ticklish from tension.
Finally, Glyceria stops right in front of the door and cautiously puts her paw in her pocket.
You never know what you can find in your pocket.
But the pocket is empty. There is almost nothing there, only a few cherry pits, a magnifying glass, a couple of old letters on pink paper (the edges of the letters are curled and curled, and it is almost impossible to see that there were beautiful golden vignettes along the edges), a comb for a mustache, a mother-of-pearl button , which somehow will need to be hidden in a chest of drawers, and dust from dried and crumbling autumn leaves.
“It seems that I picked them up at the gate and put them in my pocket the fall before last. They were so beautiful, ”thinks Glikeria, fingering the contents of her pocket.
Alas. There is no house key in the pocket.
“I don't know, I don't know where your key went,” Karman thinks wearily. “Honest to God, he was still here five minutes ago.”
Glyceria turns around and runs to a friend who has a lot of vices, rasps and needle files.
- Have you lost it again? - the Familiar with vise gasps, opening the door to Glyceria.
Glyceria sighs sadly, and her lip trembles.
Five minutes later (well, those rasps and files squeal disgustingly) she receives a brand new silver key and, clutching it in her fist, goes home.
This happens every day.
- Why don't you hang the key around your neck, on a string? Maybe then you won't lose it, - one day the Familiar with vise offers.
“A good idea, of course,” Glikeria shrugs to herself, “but then Karman will be offended by me. Decides that I don't trust him. And he's not to blame for anything. Maybe".
“You know what,” says Glyceria, “I have a better idea. If you don't mind, please make me 16 times 16 keys each. I will always have a spare.
“Of course, it won’t make it difficult,” nods the Familiar with vise.
In the evening he comes to her with a heavy bag. Keys are in the bag.
- Thank you, - Glykeria rejoices.
All evening, Glykeria cuts ribbons from candy boxes in half and folds them in bunches of 16 pieces.
“It's funny,” Glikeria thinks, “half a ribbon and half a ribbon turns out ... two whole ribbons. Only short ones. Why is it different with apples?
And in the morning Glykeria goes into the garden and hangs all her keys on the apple tree. Ribbons from candy boxes are tied with neat bows.
“Now,” Glikeria rejoices, “the keys will always be at my fingertips. I will pick a new key from the tree every time. And also - I'll put a spare key under the doormat on the porch!
“Ah, fathers,” Glikeria thought at this point, “but I don’t have a doormat!”
The breeze is blowing, the keys on the apple tree by the gate are softly and gently ringing. Glyceria is sitting on the porch, knitting herself a new round striped rug.
“It’s interesting,” Glikeria thinks slowly, “the round rug, while I’m knitting it, doesn’t have any halves at all. Why is it that with apples, with apples, everything turns out so strangely?
Glyceria mouse and silver pencil
The Glyceria mouse woke up on Friday morning and thought: "I'm some kind of uncreative mouse."
Everyone has different talents around. Either romances are sung to the guitar, then they are embroidered with a cross, then fuchsias are bred. And one friend even cuts out the silhouettes of exotic animals with a jigsaw.
And only Glyceria does not show any creative abilities.
No, she, for example, can sing too. Glykeria sings loudly, beautifully, she herself likes it. Who heard - they say: wow. And they ask: what is it that you sang, Glykeria? And when Glykeria answers, everyone is surprised: wow, they would never have thought! Unless the verses are familiar ...
“Maybe I should write poetry?” - inspired Glykeria.
Glykeria put down her breakfast (toast spread with jam and baked milk) and went for a walk to think it over.
A friend came across.
“Something, Glykeria,” says a friend, “you have an unusual expression in your eyes today: not that hungry, not that poetic.
“Here he is, pointing the finger of fate,” thought Glyceria. “Everything is one to one: poetry is, without a doubt, my path.”
However, poetry is serious business. We must first prepare.
I bought Glykeria a notebook in a red silk cover and a silver pencil with a white eraser on the end. And went to the library.
The library was not far away, at the end of a linden alley in the corner of the park.
- I, - Glikeria says to the librarian, - I want to write poetry, and I need to be theoretically savvy about it.
- A savvy mouse is great, - the librarian agreed sedately. - Although the main thing in poetry is the mood. I'll bring you a poetic dictionary now.
And, shuffling in his slippers, he went off into the distance, dissolving in the dove-gray twilight between the shelves.
Glyceria waited a long time. I'm bored. I decided to read any book I could get my hands on.
I took it at random.
Opened.
It reads right on the letter “M”: “Mice are an excellent food product, both raw and processed. Tails are especially good…”
Horror dimmed in Glyceria's eyes, the bluish library dusk descended on her like a stuffy cloud. And then she doesn't remember anything.
Why are you so careless with books? - Sprinkles water on her from a flower vase from where the librarian has come from. - Literature is not for you at all on this shelf. This is a guide for cats for you. About tasty and healthy food.
And, in order to finally calm Glyceria, he showed her another book:
- Here, look, in the "Mouse Encyclopedia of Everything" it is even written that mice are gentle, poetic creatures ...
Glyceria rubbed a fresh bump on the back of her head with her paw and answered:
- I myself know that we are poetic. I just came here about poetry.
She thrust Glyceria the volume of the literary encyclopedia under her arm.
And hurried home.
Glykeria is sitting with a book on the porch, drinking baked milk (it has cooled down, of course, but Glyceria warmed it up again).
“First I’ll read all the big black words on the left,” she decided, “and then I’ll read the small details about them ...
Amphibrachium, for example... Sounds nice. What does it look like?" - thinks Glyceria.
It's that old flannel rag she dusts the piano with. Grey, soft...
“Anapest… Anapaest is like a flower. Its leaves are long, like those of a sedge, so sharp ... When you break the stem, you hear a juicy crunch.
Enjambement ... It seems that the neighbor from the house on the corner had such a surname. It's a pity he left a long time ago. And he does not write letters to anyone ...
Blank verse…"
Glykeria put down the dictionary here and thought. She liked this: blank verse.
Interestingly, blank verse - what is it? Quite white, like fresh snow under the bright sun, or pale, like baked milk?
“That suits me just fine,” Glyceria decided. It’s not worth shoving further, just wasting time. ”
Glyceria took out a new notebook bound in dark red silk. And she began to create.
By evening, Glykeria had a full notebook of blank verses.
Glykeria sat down to admire the sunset, opened the eighth page in her notebook. This eighth white-white page was just about the sun, which rolls behind a distant forest. So Glyceria decided for herself. And the ninth white page was about how crickets chirp in the garden on a warm summer evening.
“Indeed, the main thing in poetry is the mood,” Glykeria sighed, admiring the sunset. Her mood was good and very poetic.
That's just a silver pencil with a white eraser at the end has not yet come in handy. But that's okay, maybe tomorrow morning Glykeria will discover her talent for drawing.
And before going to bed, Glykeria once again looked into the literary dictionary, so, with nothing to do. It turns out that white verse is also called free verse. But Glyceria did not like this word. Somehow it doesn't sound like a mouse. Let him be used in the cat encyclopedia.
Glyceria mouse and a clean fridge
Mouse Glyceria decided to clean up inside the refrigerator. She really likes to put all the products in a large basket, and then pour white thin and tender soda on a small rag and wipe the smooth, cool walls.
It happens so well in a clean refrigerator that Glykeria sometimes seriously thinks: why not put a wicker rocking chair with three silk pillows - burgundy, dark green and purple on the bottom shelf and sometimes spend time there on a hot summer afternoon? The refrigerator is always light - Glyceria checked this by sneaking up to him and unexpectedly opening the door, but she never caught the refrigerator by surprise. You can get something tasty to nibble from the top shelf. And if you cut a window in the wall of the refrigerator, hang a curtain in blue forget-me-nots, it will turn out just fine.
The basket, meanwhile, is filled with edibles pulled out of the refrigerator. Here's a jar of blueberry jam, here's a box of cakes, here's a quarter of a watermelon.
And here it is - toss it out. “Reject it immediately,” Glykeria says to herself sternly.
"It" is like an oily yellow stone. Once it was cheese.
It was brought to Glyceria by not very frequent guests. If they were frequent, they would know that Glyceria does not like cheese at all. That's absolutely.
Friends and acquaintances of Glykeria have already ceased to be surprised. A mouse that does not like cheese is very rare, so one can be proud of such a special acquaintance.
Glyceria carried the former cheese to the trash can.
In the left paw.
And then, behind Glykeria, someone quietly and sadly said:
-Stop, Glyceria! Do not do that!
Glyceria stopped, of course. She turned her head:
who stopped her?
- It's me, - said the one who stopped Glyceria. He sat on the edge of the kitchen table, dangling his neat legs in white stockings. - Let me introduce myself: Benjamin.
"Very nice," Glyceria nodded. I guess I don't need to introduce myself. But if you please explain why you stopped me? And who are you anyway? No one has sat on my table before you.
-I'm the Cheese Spirit. It was I who stopped you.
Glyceria backed away. She didn't like ghosts.
- No, don't be scared! I'm not dangerous! Trees have dryads, lakes have naiads, and cheese also has spirits. What is cheese without spirit? They even write poems about us, haven't they read it?
“Let’s better, I’ll offer you tea,” Glikeria found. She did not read poetry.

Benjamin drank tea with jam and said:
- ... And some of our people like to have fresh air. They live only in Maasdam cheese - there is a lot of space and you can see what is around in all directions. And one of my comrades, he is so simple at all. He likes to settle in processed cheese. He says, but there it is soft and does not shine through anywhere. And then there are those ... not good at all. They don't care what kind of cheese. They love any cheese as long as it's in a mousetrap.
Glyceria always believed that there were no mousetraps in the world and her mother scared her just like that. But she didn't elaborate. To keep the conversation going, she asked:
What kind of cheese do you personally like?
- Yes, what am I ... - Benjamin was embarrassed, - I'm in a simple way, without requests. I felt good at your place, you didn’t eat cheese, so I wasn’t threatened by frequent moves ... Only, of course, the piece that you wanted to throw away ... It was cozy, good. The old one is, of course, tough, everything crumbles everywhere, it looks askance... but I'm used to it...
Then he blushed and added, shyly picking at the tablecloth with a spoon:
- You know, actually, to be honest, I would like to settle in Dor Blue cheese. There, of course, there is mold, not everyone likes it ... But it is so beautiful, this mold is blue ... Of course, I understand that you don’t use cheese at all ...
Glyceria wanted to clarify whether mold would spread all over the inside of the refrigerator. And yet - how often will you have to change the cheese for a new one. And yet - how will Benjamin react if she still tries to eat cheese. And one more thing - will he be delighted if Glyceria likes the cheese, or will he be upset.
But, looking at the face of the Cheese Spirit, flushed from hot tea with jam, she decided that it was quite possible to find out all this later, along the way.
It's decided, Glyceria thought. - Tomorrow I will buy Veniamin a piece of blue cheese. And so that the mold does not spread, I will buy a cheesecake. With lid. Yes. The bottom is silver, and the lid is glass, and at the top there is a faceted bump, and from the bump there are rainbow rays all over the refrigerator. And for now, he will spend the night in the old piece.
In the evening, when Benjamin had already fallen asleep on the top shelf of a cleanly washed refrigerator, Glykeria wiped the dishes. And I thought: what if spirits are not only cheese? Maybe tomorrow we will be able to lure the Spirit of Blueberry Jam?
Glyceria mouse and pickles
Mouse Glykeria decided to check how the cucumbers are doing in the greenhouse.
The cucumbers appeared to be ripe. They were green, peppy, prickly, and even seemingly crispy.
Glyceria was overjoyed, she quickly ran for a basket and began to pick cucumbers. Paws prick her; the cucumbers sit firmly, Glyceria twists them, twists them, almost gnaws them off with his teeth, but they just don’t want to gather.

Nevertheless, the stubborn Glykeria collected a full basket, brought them to the kitchen and began to put them on the table. The table is covered with a tablecloth, and white lace is sewn on the edge of the tablecloth, with knitted hearts (Glykeria crocheted them all winter from threads called “chamomile”). Folds them neatly, in rows, admires. Beautiful green cucumbers on a red checkered tablecloth.
Glykeria recalls how these cucumbers were white smooth seeds that lay wrapped in a wet cloth ... How a gentle curl of a sprout crawled out of each seed ... How she planted them in small pots and how then two oval leaves appeared. As later, already in the greenhouse, cucumbers grew, branched, bloomed with double bells - yellow and orange. Glyceria even wanted to collect them in a bouquet, but then changed her mind. Because I have already collected a bouquet of potato flowers.
And now - what would be so wonderful to make from cucumbers?
Glykeria decided to pickle cucumbers.
The salt was on Glyceria's shelf, next to the refrigerator, in a pot-bellied wooden barrel with stripes.
Glykeria climbed onto a stool, stretched herself, but looked around ... and then it suddenly seemed to her that she was about to fall! Far, far below was a red tablecloth with tiny cucumbers barely visible from here, from a height, even further away was a stool, and farthest away was the floor covered with a striped rug woven from old rags.
Glikerin's head was completely spinning, she grabbed, so as not to fall, for what was before her eyes. For a barrel of salt.
The keg slipped out of Glikerina's paw, crashed on the floor, spun like a top on its pot-bellied side, and salt spilled out of it all over the kitchen.
“It’s beautiful,” Glikeria rejoiced, “it’s like winter!”
She jumped off the stool and began to run over the spilled salt. Run from corner to corner of the kitchen - and turn around: beautiful traces are obtained?
I was not too lazy to bring sneakers and walk through the salt in them: can you see the pimples that the sneaker has on the sole? It was even more interesting to run in sneakers, especially since, while she was running barefoot, she started to get a scratch on her heel. They do not like scratches when they are put into salt.
Glykeria ran, got tired, sat down on a stool to catch her breath.
And suddenly how it jumps!
Fathers! After all, sprinkle salt - this is a quarrel!
Glyceria lives alone. What is it - she will have to quarrel with her neighbors? How can you quarrel with them when the holiday is coming soon and they were just going to hang flags and lanterns on the fences and trees tomorrow? And then drink tea?
You need to get into a fight with someone at home. Glyceria looked around. And I realized: I have to quarrel with cucumbers.
“Hey you…” Glyceria said in a quiet, uncertain voice (she didn’t know how to quarrel and didn’t know how to behave). - Hey... you... cucumbers... Why are you sprawled out here, huh?.. Such... green ones! And small ones! And prickly!!!
Then Glyceria looked at her prickly paws, and her voice sounded more confident:
- Yes! You are just disgusting, crooked, green, prickly little things!!! You even hate to salt! They lie here! Rolling!!! Valyavki!
The cucumbers were silent. Either they were immediately offended by Glikeri's words, or they did not want to quarrel.
"That won't do," Glyceria sighed.
You have to quarrel with someone mutually. She went to the mirror, looked at herself and decided to quarrel with herself. Goodness and reason right in front of your nose.
- Oh, just look at her! What ears!!! With such ears, I would be embarrassed to leave the house, to scare the people! Glyceria began.
- Yes, you look at yourself, look at yourself, - Mirror Glyceria unexpectedly answered her. - Not only do you have ears, you also have crooked legs! The tail is bald! And you are not smart!
- Do I have curves? Am I mad? Glyceria gasped from unexpected resentment. - Yes you!!! Yes I!!! Yes…
“There is nothing to be offended by the truth,” Mirror Glyceria nodded instructively. - Everything is upside down in your house, you slut! You look, look what floors you have! I could wash!
- I ... I washed, - the dumbfounded Glykeria tried to justify herself.
“I could have washed it with soap too,” Mirror Glyceria nailed. She craned her neck, peering over Glyceria's shoulder. Is that how you washed them? Yes, you have the whole floor in the kitchen is unknown in what!
“I spilled the salt there,” Glikeria explained.
- Well, so you stood up like a pillar, go, at least sweep all this disgrace!
Glyceria wanted to be completely offended and turn away, but then she got up on tiptoe and also looked into that mirrored kitchen. And snorted:
- Yes, as if your kitchen is cleaner! Heh!
“So I’ve practically gone to sweep,” Mirror Glyceria pursed her lips.
- And I sweep, - Glikeria turned away from the mirror and went for a dustpan and a broom.
Everything was cleared up in five minutes.
“Should I go, make peace with Mirror Glyceria? After all, I was the first to start ... ”Glykeria sighed.
But from the mirror, from somewhere in the depths, a cheerful song was heard: Mirror Glyceria put things in order in the kitchen and began to remove the curtains from the windows - to wash.
She waved her paw at Glykeria from a distance, saying that she was not angry, but she could not come up: she was very busy.
And then Glykeria with a light heart went to pickle cucumbers. Because there is still a little bit of salt left at the bottom of the barrel. And she pulled currant leaves and dill in the garden, why should they disappear?
The cucumbers in her paws were still silent. And they thought: “We will not be offended by Glyceria. It's so temporary for her. For example, our bank neighbor is a currant leaf, so he is always rude ... and clothed. And then we get used to it and do not take offense ... "
Mouse Glyceria and Blueberry Tea
Mouse Glyceria did not like to be sick at all. What's good about being sick? You sit on your bed, hanging your paws, your tail is sweating, it's hot behind your ears.
Friends and acquaintances come to visit you, and everyone asks questions.
- Well, are you sick? - friends and acquaintances sympathetically shake their heads.
- Ill, - confirms Glykeria.
- And where did it get you so through? - inquisitively interested in friends and acquaintances.
“But who knows,” Glykeria answers vaguely.
- You would, Glikeria, go barefoot less, - friends and acquaintances show severe concern.
Here Glyceria becomes bored of talking, and she turns her nose to the ceiling. Friends and acquaintances understand that it is not worth being offended by the impolite Glyceria, because the sick Glyceria is not responsible for herself.
And they leave Glyceria, lined up in single file. The door closes behind them, and Glyceria is alone again.
Not interested in getting sick.
And Glykeria would never have taken up such a boring business, if not for one secret Glycerin passion.
Glyceria was terribly fond of buying medicines.
Past the pharmacy, for example, Glykeria could never just pass. The tablets are all so beautiful - pink, green, white, and there are also long cones - two-color. You scoop up a cool handful - they pleasantly slip through your fingers. And then there are patches. They can be glued everywhere where it hurts, and then peeled off. True, if the wool sticks to them, then it starts to hurt, just when you take off the patch, so Glyceria glues the patch on the palms and heels. And there are also large white pills - you can throw them into the water and then sit and admire the bubbling bubbles. And there are also sweet syrups, and a small colored spoon is certainly attached to them. With purple stripes on the handle, or with a red flower, or all yellow, or something else. Glyceria has already accumulated a lot of such spoons, five pieces
eleven or twenty-six. Or maybe forty-nine. Spoons of Glyceria especially appreciated.
They knew Glyceria in the pharmacy. And already a little angry with her.
“You can’t buy so many drugs, Glyceria,” they told her in the pharmacy. - Tablets and pills are sold only to those who are sick. What do you have? Nothing? Here's rosehip syrup for you, here's a new plastic spoon for it, and get out of here, be glad that you're healthy.
Of course, it's good that another spoon appeared in the collection, the sixteenth, twenty-seventh or fiftieth. But one spoon, then if, for example, it is all lilac with purple dots, the heart will not warm for a long time. In the evening, Glykeria will admire the spoon, and in the morning she thinks: “I wish I could buy another one. Suddenly the next one will be blue with blue squiggles.
But as soon as you get sick, the pharmacy immediately sells you a bunch of everything.
And this Wednesday, Glykeria went for a walk in the blueberry. Eat berries, and at the same time pick up blueberry leaves, tea with them is good.
Glykeria took a walk, came home. She looked at her paws - and they are all in blue spots. And the heels are blue, and the palms are blue, and the tongue - Glykeria specially ran to the mirror to check - also blue-blue. And the coccyx of the tail, which had been pink all his life, also became somehow bluish.
Glyceria was delighted and ran to the pharmacy.
- Sell me, - he says, - I have more pills and, most importantly, syrups. I got sick, really bad.
- Why are you ill, Glyceria? - they say in the pharmacy, just in case, moving closer a large box of vitamin syrups.
- A terribly serious illness attacked me, - Glykeria mournfully answers. - My bruising has begun.
- What-o-o??? - surprised in the pharmacy.
- Blue-eyed, I'm telling you, - explains Glikeria.
And, in order to completely believe her, she put her blue palms on the pharmacy counter and opened her mouth to its full width, sticking out her tongue.
Str-r-r-ash blue!
In the pharmacy, they saw Glikerina blue and were stunned.
And out of surprise, they accidentally dropped the whole box of syrups on the floor.
The bubbles gurgled, crackled, and the syrup spread out from under the counter in a large, thick, sticky puddle.
Glyceria trampled in a puddle, with her hind paws, a soil-la and says:
- I think it's very harmful when bruising when the hind legs are in syrup. I'm going to wash up, and I'll come back to you later.
Glykeria is sitting on her porch, drinking tea with blueberry leaves, dipping her hind legs into a bowl of warm water.
And then they bring her a package from the pharmacy. The parcel says that not only a large puddle of syrup and broken bottles were left from the broken vials, but also a bunch of different plastic spoons.
The spoons were not damaged at all and are no longer needed by anyone. Maybe Glyceria will come in handy?
Glyceria set aside a glass of tea, opened the package, and there really were spoons, smeared in syrup, poured - to the brim.
Glyceria washed them until night and arranged them by color. And rejoiced.
“Now,” thought Glykeria, “you can not get sick for a long, long time. Until the happiness from a whole box of spoons passes.
And blueberry tea can be drunk in the morning.
Glyceria mouse and wooden sled
Mouse Glyceria looked out the window and sighed with happiness. During the night, everything that was outside the window - an apple tree, a porch, a fence, a lawn - was covered with snow.
Glyceria was so delighted that she did not even drink her morning cocoa yet, but immediately (right in her nightgown and barefoot) ran to the porch.
She stood a little in the doorway, and then carefully, holding her breath, touched the delicate white velvet surface with her bare paw. A thin layer of snow quickly melted under her narrow footprint - and the gray boards of the terrace appeared. Then Glykeria tried again - with the other paw and pulled it back faster. The new track came out to be a feast for the eyes - neat and clear: here is the heel, here are the long fingers.
Glyceria admired the paw print and went into the house: from the kitchen there was a thin call, the whistle of a teapot. Wet footprints trailed behind her.
While she drank cocoa, the snow fell in thick flakes.
“Perhaps after dinner it will be possible to go skiing,” Glykeria decided.
In the closet under the stairs, where the skis were stored, there was a delicious smell of dried raspberries, ski wax, and just a little bit of dust.
Glyceria took out a case with skis and laid them out on the floor in the corridor.
She inherited glycerin skis from her aunt. They were painted with bright red paint (although, of course, in some places the paint had already peeled off and peeled off, but honestly, they were once red!), Black boots hung on dull silver mounts, raising their heels, and there were also skis two sticks tied with a rope. Bamboo, with wide circles on a crosspiece made of leather straps.
First of all, Glyceria unfastened her boots. They have long lost their original smoothness and with their black crumpled rough sides looked like two dried prunes.
guilt (it happens, you forget a bag of prunes in a closet for three years - and then you take out long prunes that have dried out, covered with grayish mold and dust, which barely smell of prunes).
Glyceria put on striped woolen socks, pulled on her boots and began to walk back and forth to stretch her boots.
And then the "afternoon" came.
When Glykeria got to the city park, where she loved to ride along the pine alleys and also from the hill, she saw that friends and neighbors had already cut ski tracks along and across the park, so she only had to decide where to go - to the summer theater or to the side ice rink.
Glykeria leisurely put her skis on the snow, fastened her paws in her boots, pulled a purple hat deeper over her ears, took sticks, pushed off and - she went !!!
At first, she drove straight ahead, without turning anywhere. The tops of pines floated over her head, she pushed herself with sticks, moved long skis and was very pleased with herself.
But it seemed to her that some other strange sound was added to the fresh clear whistle of snow under the ski runners. Most of all, it was like a muffled muttering of displeasure.
But when she decided to turn towards the hill - the unexpected happened.
The right ski went where Glykeria directed it, but the left one lingered for a second, and then decisively turned left.
Glyceria got up, dusted herself off and got back on the track. However, when she tried to move away, the left ski remained in place and even slightly recoiled back.
The third time, Glykeria did not tempt fate (“Tea, we are not in a fairy tale, so that we can thrive in the snow three times,” thought Glykeria).
She unfastened her skis, picked up the sticks under her arm and went home.
As she dragged the skis, the murmuring subsided.
She left the sticks in the corridor, and with her skis at the ready she strode resolutely into the living room.
There she laid them on the carpet and said into the air, addressing no one:
- So. And what, exactly, is the point?
- First, put me ... and this ... right one too - to the stove!
- Why to the stove? - Glykeria was slightly taken aback from such a conversation with her own old skis.
- Then, - the left ski answered grumpily, - as usual - the skis are standing by the stove! So it is with us, with skis, accepted!
“But I don’t have a stove,” Glyceria was embarrassed. And she added with hope: - Or maybe a fireplace will do?
- A fireplace will do! - the skis answered her in unison.
Glyceria leaned her skis against the wall by the fireplace and looked at them point-blank with all possible determination.
- So what's the deal? Why didn't you go where I wanted?
“Excuse me, Glyceria,” the right ski politely replied. - I personally - went just in the right direction, but I'm not responsible for that. I told him!.. Let him explain himself to you.
- And I will explain, - the left ski responded with a challenge. - Here you are, Glikeria, have you ever thought that the interlocutor should be called by name?
- Is that you by name? Glyceria was surprised.
- Us, us!!! You never even asked what our names are - skis and skis!
- What is your name? Glyceria rolled her eyes.
- Me - Ignatius, - the left ski answered. - And his - his name is Apollinaris.
Glyceria thought a little and clarified:
- Why do you have male names? Are you skiing?
"Don't generalize," Ignatius squealed nervously. - Tired of it already! Ski, ski, ski all the time! It's like each of us doesn't have a name. You understand, mouse, that this is insulting! We live all the time together, attached to each other. We look almost the same! We always go in the same direction! But each of us is an individual! With their desires and ... - Ignatius's voice broke.
- What surprised you so much, Glyceria? Apollinaris entered politely into the conversation.
- I ... I just assumed, - carefully looking sideways towards the sobbing Ignatius, Glykeria answered, - that since you, excuse me, are skis, then each of you individually is a ski ... Uh-uh ... Feminine, you know ...
- Ski? Ignatius jumped up. - And what kind of ignoramus, in your opinion?
“Depends on…” Glyceria hesitated, trying not to be offended.
“It depends on us, too,” Ignatius snapped.
- You know, Glyceria, - Apollinaris smiled delicately, - of course, I do not approve of his methods, and you will excuse us for dropping you twice in the park ... But if we had a little ... individuality ... living space- a little, just a little!
Glyceria sat down on the sofa and thought. Then she stood up and said:
- Here's what I want to offer you. How do you react to the fact that Ignatius will live in a closet under the stairs, and you, Apollinaris, in the pantry near the coat rack? It's not very far and you could visit each other sometimes.
- That would be great! Apollinaris beamed.
And Ignatius muttered:
“Sometimes even mice come up with good ideas.
In the evening, when the housewarming was over, Glykeria
invited the skis to her place for dinner.
In a vase in the middle of the table lay a whole bunch of multi-colored bars of ski ointment, and Glyceria quickly found out that Ignatius was very fond of ointment in a blue wrapper, and Apollinaris in a white wrapper with a green stripe.
Palki, Agnes and Iraida, also invited to the table, giggled in embarrassment, and when asked about life they answered that everything suits them and each prefers to live with her sister. Shoes refused the invitation to the table, they liked to fall asleep early.
The whole company decided that tomorrow morning they would go downhill.
Then Glyceria took out the jars of paint and refurbished Apollinaris. And Ignatius was suddenly embarrassed and asked to paint it with white paint.
“You see, it always seemed to me that white would suit me, but I had to wear the same as he,” muttered
Ignatius is quiet as Glyceria carefully scrapes off a layer of old paint.
Then skis - oh, sorry! - then Ignatius and Apollinaris lay down in their rooms to dry and sleep.
Glyceria went out onto the terrace, carefully bending around the beautiful bare footprint left in the morning, leaned on the railing and admired the snow-covered garden for a couple of minutes. Then she yawned and went to sleep.
“By the way, tomorrow,” thought Glykeria, falling asleep, “we need to clarify the name of the wooden sled. And that's uncomfortable."
Mouse Glyceria and lace tails
Mouse Glyceria was very fond of "The Mouse Book useful tips". The one where it is written how to remove a fresh jam stain from a white tablecloth, how to smear the tail so that the wool on it shines, and where you can use the caps from old tubes of toothpaste.
One morning, Glykeria opened this book at random, just for fun, and read there: “You can give an old whatnot that is gathering dust in your attic new life».
Glyceria liked this very much. Firstly, she loved to give something to anyone, and secondly, a new life is wonderful in itself.
“Why am I so abandoned my old bookcase in the attic,” Glikeria was worried. “By the way, where is it - in the attic?”
And then Glykeria realized that this was not the first time she heard such a word, but she had never been in the attic. And he doesn't even know where he is.
Glyceria sat down and thought. From the book it is clear that the attic is where it is very dusty. Glyceria knew only two such places: the unpaved road to the old ravine and Glyceria's floor under the bed (if you look there before the general cleaning).
Hardly there is a bookcase. Glyceria went for a walk by the ravine many times and even more often looked under the bed (bobbins, beads and torn off buttons roll in there all the time), but she never met anything that looked like a whatnot.
Glykeria went to visit her neighbor on the left. Maybe she knows?
Glykeria's neighbor poured tea, poured marmalade into a vase. Glyceria took a sip of tea, took a bite of marmalade and asked, as if by the way:
- And tell me, is there any bookcase gathering dust in your attic?
- Oh, - says the neighbor, - I have something to gather dust there! And a bookcase, and a rocking chair, and old magazines about how to knit lace tails (I got this from my grandmother), and a chest with out-of-fashion silk skirts, and eight broken wall clocks, and ...
Glyceria, as she presented silk skirts and tails, trembled with impatience all over.
- Can I see it? - restraining excitement in her voice, asked Glykeria.
- Why do you need Glyceria? Rubbish alone, nothing interesting. However, let's go.
They climbed to the second floor and climbed further up the stairs.
Here it is, the attic! What was not there!!!
And there were magazines about lace tails too. A whole bunch. They were on an old shelf. On the bottom shelf.
Why do you need an attic at all? - as if casually asked Glykeria from a neighbor.
- Yes, in every house an attic is needed so that all junk can be taken there when it is already useless. I would gladly free my attic from all uselessness. And in freedom and space, I would dry pillowcases and duvet covers there after washing. I have a big family, there are a lot of duvet covers. And for some reason even more pillowcases.
Glyceria quickly said goodbye to her neighbor and ran to her place.
I climbed to the second floor and went straight to the darkest corner of the corridor. The light bulb there had burned out long ago, but Glyceria had taken a flashlight with her. He looks - there is a door in the wall, and a copper carnation is driven into the lintel, and a large key hangs on it.
Glyceria opened the door, and there was a ladder upstairs - here it is, the attic, her attic, her own! Twilight, smells of dust, and in the far wall - an octagonal window with thin bindings and colored glass.
And there is everything that is supposed to be there: cabinets, and dressers, and coffee tables, and stools without legs, and three chandeliers with broken shades, and an armchair, and two wiped rugs, and a wall clock with a cuckoo house, and a box with broken rings and earrings, and a box of left
shoe, and a chest with right shoes - and everything is not a pair. Only there was no bookcase.
A large attic, a lot of beautiful useless things - Glyceria will look at everything and be surprised for a year. And there is still plenty of free space.
But without an old whatnot - Glykeria felt - the attic could not do.
Glyceria called her neighbor. And she shared the idea - to take all the neighbor's attic dustiness and uselessness to her attic. And ... and if possible, by all means do not forget the old bookcase. With magazines.
The neighbor did not even ask why Glykeria was doing this, but immediately agreed and, to her joy, immediately arranged a big wash: she took out eighteen basins and soaked all her pillowcases and duvet covers in them.
By the evening, Glyceria had dragged everything and placed it in her attic. And in gratitude, she gave the neighbor a large coil of rope - so that the neighbor could hang her entire attic free from trash with linen.
In the evening, at the hour of the gentle singing of the crickets, Glykeria sat on the terrace, drinking tea, and by the light of a kerosene lamp with a milky-white lampshade leafing through magazines from an old bookcase.
“I wanted to give the old whatnot a new life,” thought Glikeria, licking blueberry jam from a spoon, “but it turned out that the old whatnot gave me new life. A brave new life in which there is always a place for lace tails. Tomorrow morning I will knit this one, peach. I just had a skein of thread in the right color lying around.”
Everyone around knows how to live right. Mouse Glyceria knows how to live with pleasure. She composes poetry as white as milk and collects real treasures - maple airplanes, old coins, chocolate wrappers and fragments of Christmas balls. Every time Glyceria tries to do something "as is customary", adventures begin, and everything ends up being her own way.

Reading books takes us and our children to another world - fabulous and magical. It allows you to look at everyday situations with a different, fresh look, to see something new in ordinary things.

Fairy tales help in the upbringing of children, in psychological problems. Therefore, in every family there must be a tradition of family reading. It doesn't matter how old your child is.

This book will reveal to you the secret of the strange little characters, the myukles, present in every illustration. It is interesting to watch them and look for them in the pictures, but until we read this book, we only wondered what kind of tiny heroes they were?

And, of course, you will learn about how Petson met Findus.

One of the funniest stories is "". My daughter and I laughed together, reading about how Findus planted a meatball, how chickens dug up the entire garden, how cows followed the “wandering bag”.

Now every day my daughter and I plant carrots, potatoes, meatballs and guard chickens. There are no more rooms in our house - only chicken coops.

" " - very instructive story, showing children that parents can also be in a bad mood, that they can be sad, and even angry, but at the same time they do not stop loving them. Little Findus understands this well. He is not angry that Petson is not shouting at him and is trying with all his might to cheer up the old man. Kitten, he finds clever ways to cheer up his beloved Petson.

Books about Petson and Findus are very funny and funny. We love them very much. But I also wrote about the one.

Sasha and Masha Stories for children

This book, unlike the previous ones, is practically devoid of illustrations. And those small pictures that are found in it are black and white. But at the same time, she is very popular with children. I thought for a long time before buying stories about "Sasha and Masha", but once I heard the reviews of a familiar mother, I nevertheless decided. And she didn't regret it.

We read this rather thick book in two visits in one day. And the next morning I started reading again. What attracts this uncomplicated children's book?

Probably very simple stories about the lives of children. The whole book consists of short stories about simple life situations that happen to children every day. For example, about how Sasha and Masha got caught in the rain, or dropped bread into the mud and washed it under a tap, how they built a helicopter out of a box or took a cat out of a closet.

Sasha and Masha play together, sometimes quarrel and make up again. Every story has its own moral. And children simply recognize themselves in the adventures of the heroes of the book. Therefore, with pleasure, we are ready to listen and listen to these simple stories.

I didn't like the frequent use of the word "stupid" in the book, but I just skip it and don't read it.

The small square format book is very convenient for traveling with a child. There will definitely not be a question with her -.

And boast a little. I finally managed to order a book that I have been hunting for for a long time - "Tales of Artists" by the White City publishing house. The book talks about famous artists in a very accessible form for children - in the form of fairy tales. Many illustrations - reproductions of famous paintings. These books are a great way for a child to learn inconspicuously. Very soon we will receive this book, and after reading it, I will definitely write my review about it. Do not miss.