The story of one girl. Parents, I love you, or how to be a good daughter Daughter, don’t upset your father

“Yes...” I answered uncertainly.
Then she said something else, but I didn’t listen to her.
Then there was an exchange of rings and a realistic kiss. We did everything for real, putting our tongues in each other’s mouths. We didn’t want to interrupt this kiss, it felt like we had crossed our bonds of our own free will.
I really liked it. Sitting at the wedding table, Yegor and I had a nice conversation. In the morning I hated that person, and now I voluntarily take his hand and look straight into Blue eyes.Everyone is eating, but I have no time to eat.
- Well, wife, how about a glass of champagne?

We had a lot of fun. We danced a beautiful dance. It’s already approaching midnight, and we’re still walking. There are so many thoughts in your head that you can’t hear anyone around, only your own thoughts.

Hmm, maybe what my father said is true?
"-Father, I will not marry him!

- Daughter, don’t upset dad!

- Dad! Why is all this necessary?! Why ruin your life with that person you don’t love?!

- Flu, do you think that your mother and I left of our own free will?! No, daughter, no... After the wedding, we hated everyone around us, even ourselves! And then time passed, just a little, a week, a month... and something started to wake up... something like love! You won’t understand at first, but then you’ll want children from this person, believe me!!”

Maybe it’s all true? Maybe we can love each other? Pfft, no, that’s bullshit, everything went to hell! Why am I snotty here?? Yegor was sitting at the table and scrolling through his phone.

- Agrippina, our photos have already gone viral! - Yegor handed over the phone with photos... fuck it! - Now you know that we should behave like a family? Even in public! If a rumor spreads that... - What is he trying to tell me here?! I actually I know everything!

- Fuck, I know! If there is a rumor about an arranged marriage, everyone will feel bad!

- Well, dear, the wedding night will be hot!

- Listen, you’ll have a hot night in the toilet with your right hand and porn! “I turned away from Bulatkin.

- Hey, that’s not interesting! Well, darling..—What lengths will you go to for sex, ahhhh

- No... darling..

-Well, dear..

- No.... dear..

-Well, my love..

- No... my love...

“Ts, tyrant!” Bulatkin tsked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We bet you can’t last a month without sex?” I turned to Yegor.

- Pfft, easy! But if I win, then we will have sleepless night! —His eyes lit up.

- And if I win, then... hmm... I'll think about it! -We held hands, I broke it.

— August 15, 2017 Bulatkina Agrippina Alekseevna... will be fucked hard! - Yegor grinned.

- Let's see, darling, let's see!

God, my head! Omagad omagad omagad! Yegor’s hand lay on my waist, his nose pressed against my neck. His hot breath caused a herd of goosebumps. I carefully stood up and wandered into the bath.

After relaxing, I went downstairs. Both the Bulatkins and Kumachevs were sitting at the table.

—Good morning everyone, Let's go without the market, and it sucks like that.” I poured myself some water with ice and returned to the room.

Egorio is sleeping, what can I do? My hubby received an SMS on his phone, but I’m not me if I don’t get in and read it! from a whore.Epehphep, Dasha...hmm...

“Egorushka, are you coming today? I miss you. I bought new underwear, will you take a look??”

Ugh, whore!

“Are you aware that I got married yesterday?”

No, so what?! He is my husband! I have every right to this!

“Bunny, are you kidding? You said that you only love me!”

Evzezvzvzkze, personal whore!

Then I didn’t notice that Yegor woke up. He snatched the phone from my hands.

- Are you crazy?! Who gave you permission to go through my phone... let alone write to someone!

-I am your wife, I have the rights to everything!

Egor threw me onto the bed, his hands wandered over my body.

- I also have the right to everything!

- Egor, we agreed! Stop it, please!

Egor had to let me go, because Egor’s mother entered the room without knocking... She saw a fascinating picture... Egor was lying on me, his hands under my T-shirt......

- Oh, oh, oh, I didn’t see anything!

- No, everything is fine, come in Marina Petrovna.

- I'll come by later.

Krch, I'm writing a new ff))

The best thing is to be patient and wait. Don't lose hope and unravel the tangled threads one by one. No matter how hopeless the situation may be, there is always an end to the thread somewhere. There is nothing to do but wait, just as when you find yourself in the dark, you wait for your eyes to get used to it.

© Haruki Murakami

Day gradually gave way to evening. The hot sun, mercilessly scorching all day, finally gave way to the evening cool. A light breeze caressed the face, neck, and shoulders of every passerby, tugging at the hems of people’s dresses, scarves, and hair. The sunset was burning with might and main over the railway station, reflected in all the colors of orange in the windows of houses, on metal roofs, and train windows. The setting sun, meeting its rays with obstacles in the form of high-rise buildings, shops, all kinds of stalls, trash cans, and a station building, left long shadows of incomprehensible shapes on the ground. At the station, train drivers and officers patiently waited for their passengers - soldiers. Occasionally, a loudspeaker announced the departure of a particular train, and old military music played. The mourners told their relatives how much they would miss them, to wait even when no one was waiting, hugged their soldiers, sometimes cried, cursed the war. The soldiers themselves, barely holding back tears, tried to console their loved ones and hugged them back.

A man of about thirty-eight military uniform, holding the strap of his backpack, stood away from the crowd and waited for his only daughter Margarita, who promised to see her father before leaving for the combat zone. He was tall, had an athletic build, broad shoulders, a wide sloping forehead, wide arched dark eyebrows, slightly fused on the bridge of his nose, almond-shaped gray-green eyes that seemed pale gray in the light of the setting sun, a straight nose with a gap, a large vertical chin, which showed a small scar and plump pink lips. The beard and mustache were neatly shaved from the man's dark, oval face with prominent cheekbones. He looked around, occasionally squinting his eyes from the sun.

A short girl of thirteen years old, dressed in a light sleeveless blue dress with daisies, white stockings with patterns and neat black shoes with small heels, was hurrying towards the man. She had a neat round face with a small vertical chin and an equally small forehead, thin arched dark eyebrows, large blue eyes with painted black fluffy eyelashes, a small upturned nose and plump crimson lips, slightly tinted with gloss. The girl was of average build. Her dark brown hair, waist-length, were gathered into one chic thick braid, decorated with a white ribbon. The girl covered her face from the sun and squinted her eyes.

The man approached her and father and daughter embraced each other.

“I thought that you would either be late or forget, but you are right on time,” said the father, and a weak smile curled on his lips.

Rita knew this smile by heart. He smiled so that his daughter would at least somehow cheer up, and he always did this when the girl began to be sad. And Rita always smiled.

But, alas, not this time.

Margot knew where and what her father was going to do. She knew that he might not return. “They kill in war,” Rita remembered a phrase from some book she read a year or two ago.

Everything inside was shattered, and the pain intensified every time, with every glance at himself. loved one. And, despite the fact that everything hurt and I wanted to burst into tears, Margarita tried to smile because she didn’t want to upset her father - he would worry. And in war, excitement is out of place. We must remain silent about him...

So Rita was silent, looking at her father. He seemed to the girl to be a courageous and confident soldier, the kind usually shown in films. It would seem that one should be proud of a brave father and shout to the whole yard: “My dad is going to war! But he is brave and will defeat anyone in battle!” - but Rita didn’t need it. She needed dad. Dad, not the word and surname, first name, patronymic in the passport. Exactly dad.

Ritun,” he began, taking his daughter by the hands, “you yourself understand what is happening there, in Chechnya. The Motherland needs us, she called us for help.

Rita silently nodded her head in agreement, and her eyes slowly filled with tears.

So be smart here, you’re a big girl and you understand what’s what. Do you promise, daughter?

Rita looked up.

“I promise, daddy,” she said, and her voice trembled slightly.
The father smiled affectionately and stroked his daughter’s hair.

Look, Margot, how you have grown! And I didn’t even have time to blink an eye. Then, I remember, such a small envelope with a tiny screaming girl, but now who is standing in front of me? The young lady is an adult, a real one noblewoman!

And again he tries to cheer her up, although he himself is also not in the mood to smile, because he knows what he is getting into. But he's not afraid. He's no stranger to it. He had already seen one war and was even able to survive. Will he survive the second one? He really hoped so.

Everyone is leaving me... First mom, then grandfather, then Dasha and now you...

Tears treacherously welled up in Rita’s eyes, and the girl began to sob.
The father expected such a reaction. He put his hands on his daughter's shoulders and smiled tenderly. And this smile, like the sun at sunrise, lit up his haggard face.
Rita will miss that smile. She will not survive this, she will wither morally while her father is at war. Will die...

Burning tears flowed down Rita's cheeks. The girl did not wipe them away. She just clung to her father, buried her face in his strong shoulder, as she always did and, probably, will do until the end of her days. If my father returns. But he will return! Rita believed until the very end that she would return. And then everything will get better and, perhaps, it will be as before.

I want to go with you. If it were possible, I would go for you, dad. Like Yesenin - either in his own or in other people’s distances.

But you can't, daughter. There are no children in war; they have no place there. You might get killed.

You too.

I know, honey.

Why are you going?

Because the Motherland called. She can’t cope without us, without male power.

And I can’t cope without you, dad.

Suddenly someone's low voice was heard male voice, clearly calling the soldiers to disperse to their carriages. Many, finally hugging their relatives tightly and kissing their wives and girlfriends, each hurried to their own carriage. Margarita's father tried to hide in the crowd.

You can do it, Rita, I believe in you! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. - And, having said this, he finally hugged his daughter even tighter.

Try to come back, daddy... - the girl said through tears.

There, on my shelf in the closet, there is a blue package. There's the dress I bought for you. Wear it when you turn fifteen. Goodbye, Rita.

And the father hurriedly headed to his train. Was it painful for him to say goodbye to his daughter? Was he tormented by the fear that he would never see his adult Margot or hear the gentle voice of his elderly mother? That is why he walked, trying not to turn towards his daughter. No, he wasn’t irritated by her tears, he didn’t just want to cause the girl new pain.

And Rita stood almost at the very edge of the platform, forlornly pressing herself against a thick, deathly cold lamppost. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Dad! - the girl shouted with all her might when she saw him looking out of the window. - Come back soon!

Wait for me, princess! - he shouted and waved his hand to his daughter.

Margarita wanted to say something else to dad, but, as luck would have it, her voice simply broke. Not to the point of wheezing and coughing, but completely gone.

And at that moment the train started moving. Painfully, the father’s familiar profile disappeared from view, as soon as the carriage itself.

The mourners gradually dispersed, and at the very edge of the platform, with their arms around ice pillar, the girl stood and looked into that blue distance where her closest person, after her grandmother, had gone.

The old war song gave way to more modern music. A song by the group Kar-man was playing about how calm and wonderful everything is in the beautiful city of Baghdad, lost among the deserts. “Everything is calm in Baghdad, everything is calm in Baghdad!” - the singer chattered cheerfully. There, somewhere far from Russia, it may have been calm, and people probably only heard about the war in books and the morning news, but here and now, at the railway station in the city of Vyshny Volochyok, it was tense. Here the air was saturated with the heaviness of separation, regret and tears of relatives who, against their will, gave up their most precious things - their fiancés, husbands, brothers, sons - to defend the Motherland. You can list them forever, but this does not change the main essence.

Rita was not shy about her emotions and, clinging to the pillar as if to to a loved one, the beluga sobbed and, like a child, wiped away her tears with her slightly soiled fists. Although, why “how”? She was, after all, a child, although she had matured at the age of seven due to the prevailing difficulties in life.

Late in the evening, when the first lights began to come on in the city, devastated and broken, Margarita trudged towards the house, where her sick grandmother was patiently waiting for her.

Tomorrow will be as ordinary as the days before it: day will give way to night, it will still be hot, the same trains at the station will come and go, bringing and taking people with them, the same sad farewells and happy greeters, the same homeless people cats at the stalls, the same beggars scurrying around at every step, begging for alms, the same thin-legged fashionistas in bright clothes at the entrance, the same uncultured inscription on the fence. Everything will be as before. And only Rita will have emptiness inside and the realization that for complete happiness, only the dearest person is missing.

Today someone says “Goodbye!”
Tomorrow they will say “Goodbye forever!”
The heart wound will heal...

Day gradually gave way to evening. The hot sun, mercilessly scorching all day, finally gave way to the evening cool. A light breeze caressed the face, neck, and shoulders of every passerby, tugging at the hems of people’s dresses, scarves, and hair. The sunset was burning with might and main over the railway station, reflected in all the colors of orange in the windows of houses, on metal roofs, and train windows. The setting sun, meeting its rays with obstacles in the form of high-rise buildings, shops, all kinds of stalls, trash cans, and a station building, left long shadows of incomprehensible shapes on the ground. At the station, train drivers and officers patiently waited for their passengers - soldiers. Occasionally, a loudspeaker announced the departure of a particular train, and old military music played. The mourners told their relatives how much they would miss them, to wait even when no one was waiting, hugged their soldiers, sometimes cried, cursed the war. The soldiers themselves, barely holding back tears, tried to console their loved ones and hugged them back. A tall, dark-haired man of about thirty-eight in a military uniform, holding the strap of his backpack, stood away from the crowd and waited for his only daughter Margarita, who promised to see her father before leaving for the combat zone. He looked around, occasionally squinting his gray-green eyes, which in the light of the setting sun seemed pale gray. A short girl of thirteen years old, dressed in a light sleeveless blue dress with daisies, white stockings with patterns and neat black shoes with small heels, was hurrying towards the man. Her waist-length dark brown hair was pulled back into one chic thick braid, adorned with a white ribbon. The girl carefully covered her neat round face and eyes. The man approached her, and father and daughter embraced each other. “I thought that you would either be late or forget, but you are right on time,” said the father, and a weak smile played on his lips. Rita knew this smile by heart. He smiled so that his daughter would at least somehow cheer up, and he always did this when the girl began to be sad. And Rita always smiled. But, alas, not this time. Margot knew where and what her father was going to do. She knew that he might not return. “They kill in war,” Rita remembered a phrase from some book she read a year or two ago. Inside, everything was broken into pieces, and the pain intensified every time, with every glance at the dearest person. And, despite the fact that everything hurt and I wanted to burst into tears, Margarita tried to smile because she didn’t want to upset her father - he would worry. And in war, excitement is out of place. We must remain silent about him... So Rita was silent, looking at her father. He seemed to the girl to be a courageous and confident soldier, the kind usually shown in films. It would seem that one should be proud of a brave father and shout to the whole yard: “My dad is going to war! But he is brave and will defeat anyone in battle!” - but Rita didn’t need it. She needed dad. Dad, not the word and surname, first name, patronymic in the passport. Exactly dad. “Ritun,” he began, taking his daughter by the hands, “you yourself understand what is happening there, in Chechnya.” The Motherland needs us, she called us for help. Rita silently nodded her head in agreement, and her eyes slowly filled with tears. “So be smart here, you’re a big girl and you understand what’s what.” Do you promise, daughter? Rita looked up. “I promise, daddy,” she said, and her voice trembled slightly. The father smiled affectionately and stroked his daughter’s hair. - Look, Margo, how you have grown! And I didn’t even have time to blink an eye. Then, I remember, such a small envelope with a tiny screaming girl, but now who is standing in front of me? The young lady is an adult, a real noblewoman! And again he tries to cheer her up, although he himself is also not in the mood to smile, because he knows what he is getting into. But he's not afraid. He's no stranger to it. He had already seen one war and was even able to survive. Will he survive the second one? He really hoped so. - Everyone is leaving me... First mom, then grandfather, then Dasha and now you... Tears treacherously welled up in Rita’s eyes, and the girl began to sob. The father expected such a reaction. He put his hands on his daughter's shoulders and smiled tenderly. And this smile, like the sun at sunrise, lit up his haggard face. Rita will miss that smile. She will not survive this, she will wither morally while her father is at war. He will die... Burning tears flowed down Rita’s cheeks. The girl did not wipe them away. She just clung to her father, buried her face in his strong shoulder, as she always did and, probably, will do until the end of her days. If my father returns. But he will return! Rita believed until the very end that she would return. And then everything will get better and, perhaps, it will be as before. - I want to go with you. If it were possible, I would go for you, dad. Like Yesenin - either in his own or in other people’s distances. - But you can’t, daughter. There are no children in war; they have no place there. You might get killed. - You too. - I know, honey. - Why are you going? - Because the Motherland called. She can’t cope without us, without male power. - I can’t cope without you, dad. Suddenly a low male voice was heard, clearly calling the soldiers to disperse to their carriages. Many, finally hugging their relatives tightly and kissing their wives and girlfriends, each hurried to their own carriage. Margarita's father tried to hide in the crowd. - You can do it, Rita, I believe in you! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. - And, having said this, he finally hugged his daughter even tighter. “Try to come back, daddy...” the girl said through tears. - There, on my shelf in the closet, there is a blue package. There's the dress I bought for you. Wear it when you turn fifteen. Goodbye, Rita. And the father hurriedly headed to his train. Was it painful for him to say goodbye to his daughter? Was he tormented by the fear that he would never see his adult Margot or hear the gentle voice of his elderly mother? That is why he walked, trying not to turn towards his daughter. No, he wasn’t irritated by her tears, he didn’t just want to cause the girl new pain. And Rita stood almost at the very edge of the platform, forlornly pressing herself against a thick, deathly cold lamppost. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. - Dad! - the girl shouted with all her might when she saw him looking out of the window. - Come back soon! - Wait for me, princess! - he shouted and waved his hand to his daughter. Margarita wanted to say something else to dad, but, as luck would have it, her voice simply broke. Not to the point of wheezing and coughing, but completely gone. And at that moment the train started moving. Painfully, the father’s familiar profile disappeared from view, as soon as the carriage itself. The mourners gradually dispersed, and at the very edge of the platform, with her arms wrapped around an ice pillar, a girl stood and looked into that blue distance where her closest person, after her grandmother, had gone. The old war song gave way to more modern music. A song by the group Kar-man was playing about how calm and wonderful everything is in the beautiful city of Baghdad, lost among the deserts. “Everything is calm in Baghdad, everything is calm in Baghdad!” - the singer chattered cheerfully. There, somewhere far from Russia, it may have been calm, and people probably only heard about the war in books and the morning news, but here and now, at the railway station in the city of Vyshny Volochyok, it was tense. Here the air was saturated with the heaviness of separation, regret and tears of relatives who, against their will, gave up their most precious things - their fiancés, husbands, brothers, sons - to defend the Motherland. You can list them forever, but this does not change the main essence. Rita was not shy about her emotions and, clinging to the post as if to a loved one, cried loudly and, like a child, wiped away her tears with her slightly soiled fists. Although, why “how”? She was, after all, a child, although she had matured at the age of seven due to the prevailing difficulties in life. Late in the evening, when the first lights began to come on in the city, devastated and broken, Margarita trudged towards the house, where her sick grandmother was patiently waiting for her. Tomorrow will be as ordinary as the days before it: day will give way to night, it will still be hot, the same trains at the station will come and go, bringing and taking people with them, the same sad farewells and happy greeters, the same homeless people cats at the stalls, the same beggars scurrying around at every step, begging for alms, the same thin-legged fashionistas in bright clothes at the entrance, the same uncultured inscription on the fence. Everything will be as before. And only Rita will have emptiness inside and the realization that for complete happiness, only the dearest person is missing.

Today they say “Goodbye!” to someone, tomorrow they will say “Goodbye forever!” The heart wound will heal...

More work by this author

Poems by Anna Ozerskaya 23

Fandom: Historical events, Viktor Tsoi, Metro Universe 2033, Endless Summer, Needle (crossover) Pairing and characters: Viktor Tsoi, Great Patriotic War, Afghan War, Moreau, Dina, Spartak, Russia of the 90s, Semyon, Slavyana, Olga Dmitrievna Rating: PG-13- fan fiction, which can describe romantic relationship at the level of kisses and/or there may be hints of violence and other difficult moments."> PG-13 Genres: Romance- a fic about tender and romantic relationships. As a rule, has a happy ending."> Romance, Angst- strong feelings, physical, but more often spiritual suffering of the character; fanfic contains depressive motives and some dramatic events."> Angst, Everyday- description of ordinary everyday life or everyday situations."> Everyday life, Hurt/comfort- one character suffers in one way or another, and the other comes to his or her aid."> Hurt/comfort , Songfic- fanfic written under the influence of a song, the text of the fanfic often contains its words."> Songfic, ER (Established Relationship)- fan fiction, at the beginning of which the characters are already in an established romantic relationship."> ER (Established Relationship), Poems- Poetry is a rhymed text or a text built according to a certain rhythmic pattern."> Poems, Friendship- Description of close non-sexual non-romantic relationships between characters."> Friendship, Non-standard poetry- Free verse (free verse), blank verse, mock prose, micropoetry (haiku, "> Non-standard poetry Warnings: Obscene language- the presence of obscene language (swearing) in the fanfic."> Obscene language, WMD- An original male character appearing in the canon world (most often as one of the main characters)."> WMD, Ozhp- An original female character appearing in the canon world (most often as one of the main characters)."> OZhP, Non-chronological narrative- The events of the work occur in a non-chronological order."> Non-chronological narration, Death of a minor character- fan fiction in which one or more minor characters die."> Death of a minor character, Geta elements- romantic and/or sexual relationships between a man and a woman."> Geta Elements Size: Midi- average fanfic. Approximate size: 20 to 70 typewritten pages."> Midi, 71 pages, 65 parts Status: completed

IN this work I decided to combine all my poems of different genres.

More on fandom "Historical Events"

Club of Anonymous Revolutionaries 12

Fandom: Historical figures, Historical events (crossover) Pairings and characters:

This book is difficult to write about. It is even more difficult to evaluate it. I read the story in a few hours, it’s hard to put it down...
In any case, the book won me over.
Before us is a story of cruelty and pain that crippled several lives at once. It is impossible to read it and not try to analyze it. By the end of the book there are no words left. Emotions can no longer cope. You read and simply state the facts. Not being surprised by anything.
A mother who doesn't love her child. Worse yet- she loves the others, clearly showing the difference. What could be worse? Contempt and indifference in difficult situations.
A father who can only drink and raise his hand against his wife and daughter. Worst of all, he's a coward. That is, he can only beat those who are weaker and dependent on him. Knowing everything about the scoundrel who raped his daughter, he did not lift a finger.
The monster's wife. Instead of her husband, she blamed the girl for everything. She spread the word all over the town that the girl had seduced her husband. How can you be so stupid? And after all, she herself had a girl growing up. True, she saved her.
Social workers who make sure everything gets done quickly. Everything else is superfluous.
I don’t want to write anything about the monster himself. It is impossible to imagine WHAT the girl had to go through. How afraid she spent many years when she thought that she would be hanged for what this monster did to her. And at the same time, the child knew that her parents knew about everything. Not right away, but they guessed everything. Did they do anything? No. After all, it’s much easier to pretend that nothing is happening. Suddenly everything just happens naturally.
This book is a book of loneliness. A child without friends. A girl without a childhood. Baby without love. Always alone with all your thoughts and fears. But at the same time, the main decisions are made for her. She has no way to escape. And even her little dreams are not destined to come true, because her drunkard father has already thought out her future for her.
The book itself is structured according to the style of chapters where the past intersects with the present. The heroine sits in her kitchen and recalls the horrors of her childhood. She also thinks about the future. Marsh will tell us the end of the story for every character in the story except one. But here we can guess for ourselves.
After reading these books, the only thought is that the system needs to be changed. Cold and cynical people should not be allowed to work with girls in trouble. This is wrong and only makes the situation worse. The girls don’t trust anyone anyway, but even where they should be helped, they encounter condemnation and contempt.

And one more thought haunted me. If you don't love your child that much. If he is the cause of all your troubles (in your head) - why not give him to a shelter? No matter how cruel it may sound, but sometimes it is best solution. And the reason here is not that you are afraid of the condemnation of others..., but something else. I still couldn't understand this.

Even between parents and their own children, misunderstandings sometimes arise, which leads to disputes, quarrels and more. serious conflicts. But many people dream of living in peace with loved ones, especially their parents. How to be a good daughter so as not to upset your father and mother and live with them in complete harmony?

Respect your parents

Respect is the main thing that is required of you, because adults need to be respected, and even more so if they are your parents. Show respect and appreciate them. Just imagine what heartache they experience when their own child behaves towards them with disdain. But in the future you will also become a mother.

Don't argue with your parents

Your mother and father wish you only the best, and let their opinion not always coincide with yours, no need to argue with them. When you argue with your parents, trying to prove something to them, think about what they would do in your place. Would they, just like you, stubbornly prove that they were right, or would they give in so as not to escalate the situation? Instead of doing everything just the way you want, listen to the opinions of your parents and perhaps you will understand that you cannot always be right.

Show gratitude

And there is always something to thank your parents for - at least for the fact that they gave you life. And for what else? Because they want to raise you good person who will quickly find his niche in this life and will not need anything. Show your gratitude through actions– help your mother around the house, in particular with cooking. And my father probably has something to help with.

Don't upset your parents

Children often upset their parents, even involuntarily, thoughtlessly. For example, you returned home late, without even informing your mother and father where you would be and how long you would be staying. They are worried and worried - understand this. It’s not difficult to call or at least write an SMS if you stay at a party later than usual or decide to spend the night with a friend.

Make them happy

Even a small surprise gift given from the heart can change a lot. Give your parents small gifts, arrange surprises, and don’t forget to congratulate them on their wedding anniversary. And it is advisable not just to congratulate them, but to organize a small celebration yourself (maybe with the help of other relatives and/or friends).

By consulting with your parents on various occasions, you let them know that their opinion is important to you, and their words are not an empty phrase.. It's so nice to know that your native child listens to you and asks for advice in difficult situations. You will notice how your relationship with your father and mother will begin to improve.