Teach your kids

59 important life skills to teach your children

What do table manners, telling the time and tying shoelaces have in common? Well, they're all important life skills you should pass on to your children, according to a new survey by Chessington World of Adventures.

The list of 59 most important life skills, according to British parents was topped by saying please and thank you dads with 80% of the vote.

“It is interesting that the top three things on the parental teaching list are all to do with ‘behaviour’, and how the child ‘appears’ to others," psychologist Donna Dawson, who was involved in the study said. “Parents are clearly worried that their children will reflect badly on them."

So what else made the list? See how many you can check off here…

1. Always say please and thank you
2. Respect your elders
3. Show good table manners
4. Always tell the truth
5. Don’t talk to strangers
6. Brush your teeth properly twice a day
7. Treat others with kindness
8. Be confident
9. Be helpful
10. Admit when you’re wrong
11. Work hard at school
12. Know when to say ‘No’
13. Save money and spend it wisely
14. Be independent
15. Learn how to swim
16. Appreciate wildlife / animals
17. Show compassion
18. Accept defeat with grace
19. Deal with rejection and disappointment
20. Comfort others
21. Have a loving relationship
22. Don’t walk home alone at night
23. Get along with people you may not like that much
24. Always look on the bright side
25. Distinguish needs from wants
26. Support yourself financially
27. How to add, subtract, multiply and divide
28. Look someone in the eye when talking to them
29. How to tie a shoelace
30. Eat your greens
31. How to ride a bike
32. How to write a thank you letter
33. Tell the time on a clock with hands
34. How to make your bed
35. Always accept a challenge
36. How to deal with tragedy
37. How to resolve a dilemma
38. How to negotiate
39. To always clear your plate after dinner
40. Read before you go to bed because it’s good for you
41. How to drive a car
42. How to throw a ball
43. Don’t get involved in unnecessary dramas
44. Watch TV and pay video games in moderation
45. How to read a traditional map
46. How to dress for an occasion
47. How to bake a cake
48. How to give a firm handshake
49. How to tie a tie
50. How to write an essay
51. How to wrap a present
52. How to change a flat tyre
53. How to fly a kite
54. How to start a fire
55. How to pitch a tent
56. How to dive into a swimming pool
57. How to do a cartwheel
58. How to use chopsticks
59. How to open a champagne bottle

Read more:

• Shoelace hack: teach your kids in two seconds
• Teaching your toddler manners
• Introducing mealtime manners

100 Life Skills For Kids

“The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence. ”

Hey my friend,

I set out to compile a comprehensive list of 100 life skills that every kid would benefit from mastering by the time they were ready to leave home and this resulted in a 264 page book.

It is our job to equip our kids with the skills they need to survive and prosper in this world. This is one of the greatest gifts we can pass on as parents.

a) they haven’t been taught this task yet at all,

b) they haven’t had it explained to them in a way they understand or comprehend or

c) they haven’t had the hands-on experience to feel confident enough to do it themselves.

All the skills listed below are explained in the book in a simple-easy-to-understand way for kids.

However the list also serves as a great reference guide for parents too.

Has your child mastered these skills yet (those which are age-appropriate)?

Have you provided your child with the right tools he or she needs to feel confident and competent in life?

There is no reason why they can’t start to learn any of these new skills today.

1 How To Do The Laundry

2 How To Mow The Lawn

3 How To Iron

4 How To Change The Sheets

5 How To Wash The Dishes

6 How To Sew And Mend

7 How To Unclog A Toilet

8 How To Set A Table

9 How To Keep The House Clean

10 How To Do Basic Home Improvements

11 How To Pick Up After Yourself

12 How To Keep Plants Alive

13 How To Parallel Park

14 How To Build A Campfire

15 How To Order At A Restaurant

16 How To Take Public Transportation

17 How To Be A Respectful House Guest

18 How To Get From A To B

19 How To Take Care Of A Car

20 How To Pump Gas

21 How To Cook Something That Doesn’t Come In A Box

22 How To Know When You Are Sick

23 How To Perform CPR

24 How To Swim

25 How To Perform The Heimlich Manoeuvre

26 How To Practice Good Dental Hygiene

27 How To Grocery Shop

28 How To Perform Basic First Aid

29 How To Keep Yourself Clean

30 How To Use Contraception

31 How To Deal With An Emergency Situation

32 How To Defend Yourself

33 How To Eat Right

34 How To Find A Job

35 How To Keep A Job

36 How To Budget And Keep Track Of Your Spending

37 How To Save Money And Shop Frugally

38 How To Use A Credit Card

39 How To Manage Time And Follow A Schedule

40 How To Set Goals

41 How To Delegate

42 How To Say “No”

43 How To Be A Good Judge Of Character

44 How To Admit You Were Wrong

45 How To Be True To Yourself

46 How To Be Patient

47 How To Keep Going When The Going Gets Tough

48 How To Think For Yourself

49 How To Relax

50 How To Make A Decision

51 How To Pitch In

52 How To Dress Properly

53 How To Pack Your Own Bag

54 Know How to Be Grateful

55 Know Your Values

56 Know You Are Loved

57 Know Someone Believes In You

58 Know How To Deal With Problems

59 Know You Are Not The Center Of The Universe

60 Know How To Respond To Criticism

61 Know The Difference Between Love And Infatuation

62 Know Your Parents Are People Too

63 Know Where To Turn For Help

64 Know What You Are Good At

65 How To Prepare And Write A Resume

66 How To Study

67 How To Proofread

68 How To Use A Dictionary

69 How To Identify A Potential Scam

70 How To Send A Professional Email

71 How To Write An Essay

72 How To Keep Your Computer Secure

73 How To Back Up Your Data

74 How To Read Official Documents

75 How To Search Google Like A Pro

76 How To Detect A Lie

77 How To Plan An Event

78 How To Manage Social Media

79 Master Basic Math

80 Value Learning

81 Value Things Besides Material Possessions

82 How To Defuse Potential Conflict

83 How To Advocate For Yourself

84 How To Write A Thank You Letter

85 How To Talk To Strangers

86 How To Have A Conversation With Someone Of Any Age

87 How To Take Responsibility

88 How To Use Your Voice

89 Have Good Social Skills

90 Have Manners

91 Have And Take The Initiative (To Do Stuff!)

92 Understand The Value Of A Mistake

93 How to Let Go of Past Grievances

94 How to Stay Calm

95 How to Not Be Judgmental

96 How To Grow Food

97 How To Have Basic Survival Skills

98 How To Speak In Front Of Others

99 Know Your Rights

100 How To Pick The Right Partner

• If you are curious about how you can make your life instantly better, I have a great cheatsheet here for you.
• If you’d love me as your private life coach check out THE DREAMING TO DOING COACHING EXPERIENCE
• If you want to improve your parenting skills dramatically check out BE A BETTER PARENT IN 30 DAYS.
• If you want to learn how to manage your mind to get any result you want out of life check out THE MANAGING YOUR MIND MASTER COURSE 
  
• You can listen to the Dream Big My Friend podcast here on Spotify or via Apple Podcasts.
  
• All my other courses (more than 40!) can be found here in my Inspiring Life Teachable store.
• Finally if you want to stay in touch feel free to join our INSPIRING LIFE TRIBE for your weekly dose of inspiration. The mere fact that you are here right now means you would be perfect fit!

Frances Vidakovic

With a degree in psychology, Frances Vidakovic is a certified life coach for goal getters, author of 20+ books, host of the Dream Big My Friend podcast and course creator. Her superpower: transforming moms from dreamers into doers. Frances has been featured on various platforms, including Scary Mommy, Thrive Global, Medium and SBS Radio.

Read Online "Teach Your Children" by Ivan Faber - LitRes

Part 1

Chapter 1

The house, devastated by the lack of movement, was clearing up at dawn. Here and there, through the uncurtained edges of the windows, the sun was breaking through. For some of the inhabitants of this combination of rooms, the dissipation of darkness meant only one thing - the beginning of a new day.

What should be the reaction of the owner when the dog's barking and frantic sounds, which are the result of their violent activity, make him open his eyelids, because the dream is already gone. If he had not been familiar with his pets, at first there would have been an attempt to calm them down, to separate them from each other, in order to somehow prolong the peace that had been interrupted. Alas and ah, this algorithm of actions has long outlived its usefulness, and the owner had no other choice but to get out of a deep bed.

The man sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his stubble-covered face, as if getting rid of the remnants of sleep. The digital clock on the stool to the right of the bed showed six in the morning. Glancing at them, the man finally rose to his feet, dissolving into the darkness of the room.

He went through the corridor and turned left into the second door. Turning on the light with a movement of his hand, the man faced his own reflection in a dirty, stained mirror. In front of him, leaning with one hand on the sink, with the other on the wall near the mirror, stood a gloomy, thirty-year-old man. He saw in front of him a face that had not been shaved for about three weeks, deep green eyes that gave off red irritation, thick eyebrows above them, medium-length dark hair that curled in places.

The man examined his own appearance for a long time, apparently somewhat surprised by it, then repeatedly washed himself, performed the necessary manipulations with the toothbrush, and, having undressed, climbed into the shower cabin.

He took a shower extremely passively - the whole procedure consisted in alternating changes in the temperature of the water - first very cold, then extremely hot. However, the man himself, not at all reacting to the changes, stood rooted to the spot.

After twenty minutes of a contrast shower, he left the booth, wrapped himself in a long towel that hung on the pipes, and was about to leave the bathroom, when he once again crossed paths with his own reflection. Reacting instantly, the man went to the sink, took out shaving foam, applied it, and with a few movements of a dangerous razor, quickly, like a barber, deprived himself of excess facial hair. After washing up and looking at the renewed features in the mirror, the man left the bathroom. Lay is quiet.

A corridor from the bathroom led from the bedroom to the kitchen, connected to a wide hall. However, the man preferred to return to the bedroom. Opposite the bed, against the far wall, was a closet with randomly packed things. The man feverishly, accelerating at a pace, began to look for something among the clothes on the topmost shelf. Then he stopped abruptly, apparently finding what he needed. To the touch, he was pleased with the find, but because of the darkness in the room, he still did not understand whether he had found it. Looking at some kind of rope, he nevertheless decided to turn on the light. It turned out to be an old, gnawed leather leash. But the man suddenly threw him on the floor, into a corner, and continued to fumble around in things. A minute later, judging by his slight smile, having found what he needed, he took out another leash from a pile of things, much thicker and rougher than the previous one. After examining the object, finding no flaws on it, the man threw it on the bed, after which he began to dress. Pulling on discreet jeans and a shirt torn in places, the man hooked his hand on the leash and left the room.

On the way to the hallway, at the end of the corridor, right in front of the room, a man stumbled over his slobbery, gnawed slippers. Having picked it up, the man walked a few more steps and found his pair, next to which, on its side, lay a beautiful female white bull terrier.

- Good morning. He greeted his dog grimly.

Without waiting for an answer, he patted the bitch on the side. She immediately cheered up from the touch of the owner, ran through the hall to the exit of the house.

The man followed her with his eyes and went through the darkness to the fireplace, where another black-and-white creature was sitting on a light rug. Noticing the approaching figure of the owner, the dog whined softly.

- Did you really think I would believe that Ty was chewing on my slippers? the man asked and slapped his second bull terrier with a pair of slates. The dog whimpered even harder. - Let's go.

The man fastened the leash on the dog's iron collar and led the pet to the exit of the house. In front of the door, the owner unhooked a leather jacket and put it on.

This man's name is Tom, Thomas Poulson. He is thirty years old. He was born in the fifty-ninth year, in northern Canada.

On this warm morning, and on the calendar it was the fourteenth of September, Tom left the house so early for the first time in a month. For the past two weeks, he'd regularly come home drunk, leaving the front door open so the dogs could walk themselves. It's all about the onset of not exactly the long-awaited, but very suitable, finally official vacation.

Thomas is a police officer, or rather a detective. His whole role, as he himself would say, was to identify the sequence of the crime, find evidence, catch those who broke the law and find out their motives. But in fact, this person was engaged in a much larger amount of work. Maybe I'm in a hurry, and perhaps it's worth talking about this guy's childhood so that you understand which path this person chose, or at least try to understand.

As mentioned, Tom was born in the sixties, in the northwest of Canada, somewhere in the Yukon. Thomas was the only child in the family, but he did not have a family, as such. The boy never saw his father, and even more so did not know, his mother, Ophelia Poulson, a girl with Slavic roots, was on drugs. In essence, her son was left to himself all his childhood. Until the age of five, the mother tried to deal with Tom, albeit not so successfully, but at least somehow, until the substances took over her, because of which, a year later, she left her son forever.

They lived in a small, almost empty house on the outskirts of the town of Whitehorse, in a dirty area where it was disgusting for any self-respecting person to be. The contingent of the population of these quarters were drug addicts, prostitutes, all sorts of freaks, hooligans, and so on. Even the people of the proletariat tried to avoid being here. Tom didn't know what his mother's job was, but as an adult, he began to guess, albeit with disgust, that youth, without giving her any chance for an education and a normal life, forced the girl to endure various bastards who wanted fifteen dollars or a divorced syringe. poppy to tear it off in the toilet of the nearest bar or in the front seat of your car. Tom could not give another explanation of where she found money and drugs from. The boy remained alone from day to day, while his mother left in the evenings and came back during the day, or even did not return at all for more than a day. But, it should be noted that Ofelia really tried to devote time to her son. Thomas learned to walk, talk and read in time. Oddly enough, he remembered his mother's diligence, with which she taught him the first steps, letters and sounds, then reading by syllables. But around the age of four, when his mother was in a bad mood, apparently caused by problems with money or drugs, the boy tried not to stick out of his corner, where he dragged and kept all the children's books and toys bought by Ofelia, since at these moments, the mother seemed to lose her head. Catching her eyes then, the boy undoubtedly experienced all the cruelty and baseness of a creature who, with a cursory glance, wants to see only the cherished dose that will temporarily save the poor drug addict from the incipient derilium. And this feeling of unfair resentment, despite such a young age, Tom kept somewhere deep in his soul. He knew him very well, but would never want to know him.

And now, already at a conscious age, from the age of four or five, when his only hobby was small books with easy-to-read type and simple phrases for children, Tom remained alone with himself day after day. He ate once a day, because Ofelia practically did not appear in the house, only once dropping in to leave her son lunch or breakfast. Tom always fell asleep alone. Every day the mother's mood, and by the way, her state of mind worsened, which led to constant groundless tantrums, a whole range of negative emotions, which naturally poured out on the child. Tom remembered very well Ophelia's spontaneous beatings when she came home only to hurt her son. After that, she always locked herself in the bathroom, shouted something very loudly, constantly broke it, and then bought new mirrors hanging over the washbasin. Meanwhile, a little boy sat under the bed and looked at the stains from his own tears on the dirty, dusty floor.

The Poulson family's dilapidated one-story house consisted of a connected kitchen with a living room, and two bedrooms, one of which was a children's room, which was located in the farthest corner of the house. The other room was the mother's room, closest to the exit, where Ofelia often brought her clients and colleagues. Every year, the understanding of responsibility on Tom's mother decreased, to the point that she simply forgot about her own son, completely plunging into drug addiction. What she didn't depend on. And Tom watched it all. He saw the cruelty of people, saw them as wild, scary, angry, and simply locked himself in his room, and if given the opportunity, he ran away from home.

When it got really boring, Tom went out to a gloomy, gray alley. The boy loved to play with homeless kittens, and often dragged them home while his mother was away. He loved to play with them, take care of their fur, wash them, iron them with a comb. Tom liked the way the kittens purred, and, noticing that these sounds were the cat's reaction to pleasant sensations, he tried to make the animals feel good. He shared his breakfast with them, because, to some extent, having got used to it, he no longer felt the feeling of hunger, and considered it his duty to feed his little friends. Watching them, he was childishly happy, did not scold them if they crap, tried to clean up after them, because he knew that cats should only go to one place. But one day, probably one of the most memorable days for a child, a mother came to Tom's house with another prostitute, who brought two, possibly clients. The boy, having heard the sound of a key in the lock, hastily began to hide the kittens under the covers of his own bed, with the hope that no one would enter his room. Quietly hiding near the closed door, he began to listen to the conversations of adults. Tom heard the men's voices drawn out, some words poorly pronounced, the whore laughing disgustingly, and only a single sound was not heard from the mother.

– Where is he? – Asked the first rough voice. A prostitute's laughter was heard, but, apparently, without waiting for an answer, the voice said: - Should I repeat it again?

In a moment there was heard, as it turned out, a slap in the face.

“She has a son,” the whore sneered.

- No, don't touch it! - It was already screaming mother.

- Sit. - I heard an angry, but calm, confident voice of another man.

Then came the sounds of fuss, struggle, squeals of the mother and another woman. After a minute everything calmed down, but suddenly laughter broke out, and at the same time someone stamped their feet towards the boy's room. Terrified, Tom flew from the door to the bed.

The door was thrown open. Before the boy appeared a huge, bald and at the same time bearded man, with a big belly. His eyes burned terribly, and a rough grin was visible through the thickets of bristles on a disgusting muzzle. Dressed in wide black pants, boots on his feet, his body was hidden behind a dark-colored T-shirt with torn sleeves, over which is a leather vest. The man's arms, thick and hairy, were covered in tattoos: women, knives, skulls.

Entering the dimly lit nursery, the man first glanced around before noticing Thomas.

“Here comes the boy,” the guest whispered in a vile voice.

Loudly thumping his boots on the floor, he covered the distance from the door to the bed and came close to Tom, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, shifting the kittens under the covers behind him.

- Come here, you brat.

The man grabbed the child by the dark hair and yanked him hard, causing him to fall off the bed. Then, lifting the boy by the collar of his shirt, he dragged him out of the room into the hall. Tom endured. Coming out of the corridor into the room, the man threw the boy to the sofa, right at the mother's feet. She, bursting into tears, with bruises on her face, grabbed Tom and hugged him tightly, bursting into tears even harder and louder. Thomas looked around: next to his mother sat a terrible woman, with all her unfriendly appearance pointing to the blackness of her own soul. She smoked, from time to time looking at the boy, then at Ophelia, then at another character whose presence Thomas had forgotten - at the curtained window, in a dark corner of the hall, sat a man dressed in what looked like a business suit. The style of his clothes was acquired as a result of the diffusion of classic, office fashion and biker culture. A thin, flabby face, deep-set eyes, not long, but far from short, graying hair separated his crown, hanging down on either side of an open, wrinkled forehead. He was about forty-five to fifty years old. The man looked very neat and clean, in contrast to the fat man who apparently worked for him.

- What are we going to do, Ofi? - Asked the same voice that ordered the mother to sit. “We can deprive you of your son at any moment, you understand that.

“I know, I know…” the mother whispered through her tears. I will return everything!

Tom did not understand anything, except for one thing - they were in danger. But he was so used to enduring an inadequate mother that in this situation he was more than calm. By the way, he practically did not hug Ophelia, only symbolically taking her hands when she clung to him after freeing herself from the hands of a fat man.

– What do you mean return? The old man rose from his chair in anger. “I don’t believe that you managed to spend everything!”

– I don’t have anything now, I told you why… – Mother sobbed through every word.

- Search the house! – ordered the old man to his kingpin.

The fat man started to turn everything upside down. Although, in fact, the house was empty, but at the same time it was possible to hide something in it among various garbage and rags. The biker rummaged everywhere - in the kitchen cabinets and on the shelves in the hall, tore the pillows on the sofas and armchairs, rummaged along the walls. When he began to turn over the bed in his mother's room, Tom was seized with fear - he was afraid for the kittens.

Finding nothing, the biker returned to his master and simply shrugged.

– And in his room? The old man pointed to the boy.

At that moment, Tom felt his mother tremble.

– Now. - The biker answered sullenly and disappeared into the corridor.

As soon as he was out of sight, Tom escaped from his mother's arms and ran after the fat man. However, the person who was sitting in the corner of the room caught up with the six-year-old child in an instant and grabbed his neck tightly. Ophelia, only realizing that her son had escaped from her arms, jumped up after him, but the woman sitting next to her jumped up and slapped her back in her place.

“Sit down,” she said menacingly.

Silently huddled in the sofa, the mother watched Tom groaning, writhing in pain, and the man in the suit stood straight and looked towards the corridor, waiting for his mercenary.

– Leave him, please!

The man, distracted from the corridor, turned around half a turn and looked out of the corner of his eye, first at Ophelia, then at the prisoner of his own hand.

- Shut your filthy mouth and don't pretend that he cares about you and ever did!

A few days later the fat man came out of Tom's room holding what looked like a box, a black case. Thomas glanced at him briefly - the bald man smiled mockingly, noticing the boy's gaze on him, then went up to the old man and, having opened it, handed him the find. Its owner, having examined the inner cavity of the box, nodded to his worker and threw Tom back to his mother:

- This is not all, but only for your good. We'll be back on Monday for the rest.

Ofelia nodded, grabbing her son in her arms and holding her tight.

The strangers are gone. The mother held her son in her arms for a long time, swaying from side to side. Tom hadn't seen her so alive in a long time. Only after twenty or thirty minutes did she let the boy go. Tom looked at her fascinated, and then asked:

- Who was that?

Ophelia, wiping her cheeks from salt water, was silent at first, not daring to say anything, but, thinking about the answer, she only squeezed out:

– These are bad people, Thomas. But not as bad as your mom.

At that moment, Ophelia burst into tears once again as she grabbed the boy.

- How I love you, my little one.

Tom saw her now so unprotected and so beautiful - thin, fair-haired, with large eyes sparkling with tears. He couldn't remember the last time his mother told him of her love, when she hugged him so tenderly. And the little man could not understand what was happening - who were these people, what did mother do, that she was beaten right at home, why this particular situation aroused such tenderness in mother, and why she had never been so kind to him.

Suddenly, Tom burst into an incredible scale of resentment that he pushed his mother away from him, angrily looking at her, sitting next to him, on the floor, all in tears, perplexed by his son's act:

– My boy, what happened? The streaks of mascara divided her cheeks into several parts.

Tom still couldn't explain to himself why he pushed her away then. What thought in his head made the child reject the only person close to him in his little universe?

He remembered how he turned away from her and ran to his room. And Tom will never forget the next moment.

He saw strangled kittens on his own bed that he had hidden. The lifeless bodies lay motionless, as if frozen. Thomas remembered this encounter very well, his first encounter with death. Before, he did not even suspect that any life can be interrupted, but when he touched the quickly cooled bodies of small pets, he realized that this was also possible. When Thomas replayed this memory in subsequent moments, he clearly remembered that he was afraid of how the mother or that fat man would start to beat the kittens, hurt them, but he could not even think about the possibility of a forced end of their life. And at that moment the boy was standing over the bed with dead kittens lying on it, shedding a tear for a second, he felt hatred for the first time. The tears immediately disappeared, and pure hatred appeared, a desire to inflict similar pain and suffering on those who deserve it, those who do the same evil, arguing with impunity that they will not get anything for it. He could not interrupt this hatred with tears, as ordinary children do. For the first time, Thomas felt someone else's pain, ceasing to be a child so early.

The strangest thing Tom thought was that at that moment, being a little man, he did not think about the cause of death of the kittens, why they were killed. At that moment, he realized that human cruelty is a spontaneous, unmotivated phenomenon, inherent in absolutely everyone except himself.

The silence was interrupted by the mother knocking softly on the door.

- May I? she asked quietly.

Without waiting for an answer, Ofelia entered the room. The boy stood silently in front of the bed.

“Lord,” the mother commented on what she saw and wrapped the kittens in the blanket on which they lay.

She wrapped herself around the mesmerized boy, then took his cheeks in her hands and directed Tom's gaze into her own deep green eyes.

“Listen to me, dear,” she whispered nervously, afraid to cry again. - Your mother did a lot of bad and evil things, for which she will pay for her whole life. There is nothing terrible in this, this is the world - you do evil and it comes back to you. I don't want you to repeat all my mistakes, I don't want you to grow up like this. She hugged Thomas tightly. - Today I will call Uncle Roma, and you will go to rest with him. And mom will work at this time, trying to make your life better and better, - she began to cry again, from time to time hiding her eyes in different directions. “Promise me that you will be a good boy, that you will not do evil things, that you will not hurt others.

Her last sentence was accompanied by a temporary shaking of her son in order to bring his evil state back to normal.

“I promise,” Tom said in a barely audible voice.

- That's good, my little one. Ophelia squeezed her son tightly again. And the kittens need to be buried.

– What does it mean... to bury? Tom repeated.

- When someone dies, it is customary to bury him - to allow the soul to merge with the earth, and to erect a monument or tombstone over the buried - so that people close to the deceased can come and mourn, that is, remember and mourn the deceased. Hold on and follow me.

Thomas held out his hands and Ofelia placed the blanket-wrapped kittens on them. The mother left the room and went to the closet. Tom followed her. She took out only a shovel from a dilapidated dark room.

- Let's bury them in the backyard.

Tom walked, holding the dead, to another exit that led to the rest of the plot of their house. The territory was fenced first with a rusty mesh fence, and behind it with thorny bushes. The house was located next to one of the outflows of the local river, and there were no neighboring houses behind it, closer to the shore.

Their backyard was empty, except for an old broken swing that Tom never rode, and a young maple tree, strangely growing straight up without spreading its branches to the sides.

“I think under the tree they will have somewhere to calm down,” said the mother, took off her sweater and began to dig. - And you, in order not to waste time in vain, count how many times I drip the earth.

This occupation distracted Tom from thoughts attracted to death, and he began to count how many times the mother touched the earth's surface with a shovel.

When the mother finished, Thomas said:

- 24 shovels.

- Well done. Put them in the hole.

Tom carefully placed the coverlet in the dug out place and walked away. Ofelia took up the shovel. As soon as she touched, Tom noticed her teary eyes.

“One… Two… Three…” Mother counted each shovel in a trembling voice.

The boy could not stand it and ran into the house.

Chapter 2

After that very day, Thomas' life changed dramatically. Imagine what a child can experience after such a close acquaintance with real fear, human evil and death at the same time? Your imagination may be prone to panic in a child at the slightest hint of the experience, childhood fear, obsession, but I assure you, that day changed Thomas' life in a completely different direction.

On the same day, Ophelia called her brother, Roman Burtred, told him about everything that was happening so that he would help her or at least take her nephew away for a while. Roman, a formidable and quick-tempered man, instantly refused her this very help, but agreed to take the boy, whom he saw only twice in his life - at the time of the boy's birth, and on one of the Christmas holidays, when Tom was three years old. At that moment, Roman was in Canada on his own business, and decided to stop by in Whitehorse, where he grew up with his cousin.

Roman did not know how things were with his sister throughout his life, and never sought to be interested, because her way of life confused him all the time, and when he found out where she settled with her son, he told her only one thing, after which stopped calling or writing at all: “If the boy needs help, let me know.”

The next night, Thomas did not sleep well, waking up several times from all kinds of noise, which, according to his mother soothing him, was only part of his sleep. The mind of the child, full of melancholy, with difficulty resisted the experiences, and from that very moment, Tom generally lost his chances for healthy sleep. Throughout his conscious life, he recalled that since that time there had not been a single night where he could fully enjoy the rest from the moments of the experience. And that night was the most painful.

The mother stayed at home, and after checking her son's room several times, she went to him to be near him. The boy constantly pushed back the blanket, unable to endure the heat that attacked him. Several times he woke up and pressed himself with all his strength into his mother. Then Ofelia would give him a sip of unhot tea with honey, and for an hour and a half the boy would fall asleep. This did not last long, and at regular intervals Tom began to turn back and forth again, running away from his own fears in his sleep, and eventually waking up in a sweat.

In the morning, when the autumn wind made itself felt, howling in the drafts of the house, the boy's temperature subsided, and his mother decided to leave Thomas alone to cook breakfast. The clock was about seven in the morning.

Entering the kitchen, Ophelia remembered that at the moment there was no food to prepare something to eat, and then, after rummaging through her own things and finding a couple of tens of dollars, she changed clothes to get to the nearest store. Just before leaving, as Ophelia was putting on her boots, there was a knock on the door.

The girl started.

She got up in front of the door and hesitantly reached for the key inserted into the keyhole. A moment later, there was another knock on the door, a rough male voice accompanied this knock:

- Ophelia, open it.

Recognizing her brother's intonation in him, the girl immediately turned the key feverishly and opened the door for Roman.

A man of medium height with broad shoulders stood in front of her. To some extent, he resembled an Italian - thick black short hair, a large nose, dark skin, many wrinkles on a sullen face.

– Roma! cried Ophelia, and immediately covered her mouth with her hands. In a fit of joy, she almost attacked her brother, but something stopped her. She flickered, immediately beginning to correct her own appearance, styling and straightening her blond hair, wiping her eyes, brushing off her clothes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect so quickly…”

“I understand,” the brother said.

He was dressed like a tramp - an old shabby leather jacket, wide trousers held at the waist only by a thick belt, huge boots like those worn by lumberjacks.

- May I come in? Roman asked the stunned sister, who, dumbfounded, would have stood on the threshold.

- Yes, of course, come in.

She opened a passage in front of him, and as soon as Roman entered, she overtook him, not allowing him to fully see the entire “interior”.

- Listen, I'm a little tidied up here ...

- Where's the boy? Roman ignored his sister's explanations.

"Well, he's sleeping at his place," replied Ophelia, rubbing her neck and smiling wickedly.

Roman walked around his sister and began to walk around the house, looking where the light did not fall. He looked at everything haughtily, with contempt. Ofelia understood that his arrival would be accompanied by discontent and grumbling.

Going into the kitchen and not finding anything to eat, the brother looked at his sister, and seeing nothing in her but the foolish smile of a child who was taken by surprise, went to the corridor leading to the children's room. Ophelia followed him.

Slightly opening the door, she showed Roman Tom's room, where he saw his nephew's bed and for the first time, vividly, smiled. It should be said that this man very rarely smiled, but this smile was worth a lot, since there was little that really pleased him.

After looking a little, Roman took his sister's hand and closed the door with her own:

– Are you going somewhere? he asked, noticing that his sister was dressed for the weather.

“Yes, I just wanted to go get breakfast for Tom…” she replied, looking down.

“Let’s go,” Roman said in a barely audible voice, “let’s drive to the city. - Suddenly, the brother abruptly stopped his sister: - Just take a shower, wash yourself, I beg you. You look quite stale.

Ofelia barely nodded and went to the bathroom, while Roman left the house and got into the rented Jeep.

Landing in the driver's seat, he took out a cigarette and immediately lit it. Looked around. An empty street filled with rubbish characteristic of October. On both sides of the alley were far from well-to-do houses and trailers that looked like them. There were garbage cans filled to the brim. Broken asphalt and in some places a missing curb added horror to this backwater, depriving the area of ​​​​hope for the attention of city services.

Somewhere at the end of the street appeared a dark-skinned man in a huge amount of things - hunched over, barely moving his legs, he was walking in an unknown direction, his eyes fixed on his foot. Roman recognized the poor fellow doomed to a terrible habit and immediately spat out the window. Puffing further on his cigarette, he reluctantly looked around the area, now and then closing his eyes from fatigue.

When the cigarette was finished, Ophelia came out of the house - a faded girl with modest steps approached the driver's window.

“Get in,” said Roman, starting the car.

She walked around the car and barely coped with the hard-to-open door handle. Then, seating herself convulsively, she looked inquiringly at Roman.

“For starters, let’s just drive,” her brother warned, driving onto the asphalt cracking under the wheels of the SUV.

Their exit from the street was accompanied by a cold breeze and blues playing on the radio, which prompted Ofelia to start a conversation. Roman was silent.

– How are things at home? she asked in a trembling voice, not yet accustomed to the company of a loved one.

“I don’t think you are really interested in my life, but mothers,” at that moment Roman turned his gaze to his sister, “it’s very hard. She had a stroke last week, I took her to the clinic on time. She is now under observation.

“I'm so sorry…” Ophelia managed after a moment's pause.

- Lies! Roman abruptly stopped the car. Then he clung to the collar of his sister's jacket, she sank into a chair in fear. “If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t be gone with your… that…”0005

He released her and slowly drove the car on. Turning off the radio, the brother took out a cigarette and lit it again.

- You had everything. And how many mistakes have you made? If I knew how you live now, I would have taken Tom away from you long ago.

– So why didn’t you take him?! Ophelia snapped angrily, reflecting on her brother's reproaches. “Where were you all this time while I was forced to work as a whore?!

- Because I was hoping that you would have the conscience to get, if not yourself, then at least your son, out of this shit. And yesterday you called me, saying that Tom was in danger. And let me guess, whose fault is he now suffering?

Roman nodded at the outback surrounding them.

– Is this what you wanted all your life? Does he deserve this?!

Ofelia looked up - they were surrounded by an unsteady ghetto, with no signs of a happy life. The abode of dirt, dust, suffering that the slums bring to already dependent people who are now forever doomed to while away their lives here, in the only area where you can still find a roof for next to nothing.

She felt disgusting. Disgusting from her own appearance, disgusting from where she took her family, her little man, whom she left only in order to give a chance to a better life than the one to which she herself came. And contrary to her own intentions, she realized where she had led Tom, where she herself had come during her own journey into the world of pleasure, ease of existence and impunity of consumption. Freshly applied mascara was diluted with girlish tears and, together with salt water, flowed down thin, pale cheeks, interrupting its path at the chin.

Teach your children to solve these important 3 tasks

I am periodically asked how I feel about raising children and what I think is right.

Many parents are corrupted by the idea of ​​equality with their children. I consider this idea dangerous for life and for the psyche of children. Because real equality comes along with equality of opportunities provided by one's own labor. And if your child does not realize this, he is doomed to constant social failure.

I am periodically asked how I feel about raising children and what I think is right.

• how to regulate their emotions and needs on their own , and not with the help of other people helping other people

That's all. Everything else is poetry that cannot replace these three tasks, because if you gave birth to a child, you are responsible for it to learn how to solve these three tasks.

Many parents are corrupted by the idea of ​​equality with their children.

I consider this idea dangerous for the life and mentality of children.

Because real equality comes along with equality of opportunities provided by one's own labor.

And if your child does not realize this, he is doomed to constant social failure.

Only the fact of inequality can motivate the development of skills. As long as your child believes that he is equal to you, he does not need to move his ass to learn how to solve all three of these tasks.

Parents are not equal to children until the children solve all these three tasks on their own. And even after that, inequality still persists if parents continue to grow and develop, because wisdom has no reversal, and the opinion of such parents will always carry more weight than the opinion of the smartest child.

Lack of respect for the experience and wisdom of a person who has greater opportunities, skills and qualifications than you - this is rudeness, which, as a result, is the first reason for a series of rakes on the way for an infant who decides that he is ALREADY equal to those he is not really equal.

The idea of ​​equality corrupts and implants the illusion in the minds of children that they have the same authority as their parents, without having the same authority for this authority. That's bullshit.

By the age of 21, your child should learn a few simple rules:

1. Nobody owes him anything.

2. The one who pays sets the rules.

3. Uniqueness and genius are the grounds for the development of (self-importance, pride), in real life these qualities do not have any weight.

4. Real weight is given to a person by his skills - to build social interactions and sell his products and services. These are skills that bring real results in the form of complete financial and psychological freedom and independence from other people.

5. Trying to communicate on an equal footing with those who pay for him and solve his problems is rudeness. If you want to set your own rules, pay.

6. In order for other people to respect his boundaries, tastes and needs, he must earn this by his contribution to the common cause and common cauldron.

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