Childhood is the happiest time. We always remember our childhood as the happiest moments of our life. However, childhood made for us our parents.
Each child dreams about happy family, about loving parents. And parents dream to do only the best for their babies, give them that they had not. Parents are the nearest people in the child’s life. They are no substitute for anybody else. Parents do all for us and not only in childhood, we are the children for them for ever. Mummy from morning till evening is busy with her work, with house work. Daddy also is busy with his work. And for what is all this? All this for buying a finny bear, for continue our Happy New Year till March, for doing our birthday the best day and for doing your-the happiest.
But sometimes a child wants simple to hold for some time for a hand his mummy and daddy, to walk with them at the park and to listen to his favorite fairy tale.
When I was a small girl, in the bookshop, I saw a nice book. A small book was with child’s verses, with funny pictures. And there was a funny girl on a cover of this book. Mummy said that this book about me. She read me it every evening before going to sleep.
I am an adult now. One day when I remove from my parents, I found this book at the box. This book is already 15 years! At once I am in my childhood. I remembered how my mummy petted me on a head and read this book. I fell warm, light, pleasantly. There is a moment of childhood!
Childhood made child happy. It is a world where all is simple and easy. There are your house, school and friends, you haven’t no one free minute. The whole world is round you! While you are a child and because of that you don’t think about your happiness, gladness in the world which whole tears, disappointments, laughter, merriment. However, time, as you know, don’t stop, it is so fast! And you are adult…and you will want to stop such wonderful minutes, you will want that they will lasted always, the happiest childhood turn and will be a child for ever.
Where does childhood leave? In what cities is it? And where can we find a mean That again turns us there? It will go away unheard While the whole city is sleeping, And letters will not write, And will call hardly…