Elena Dolgovesova - Nick and Kit. True life stories that never took place

When mother came to pick Nick up, Tatyana, the kindergarten teacher, met her and told her the story about Nick’s escape from the kindergarten. “He nearly walked off! It’s a miracle I caught him on the other side of the fence. Hard to imagine what might have happened!” she gasped. Nick was standing there with a guilty look in his eyes.

On their walk home mother kept explaining to Nick that he had behaved really badly. That he could have got lost, or might have been run over by a car, or have got into some other trouble.

“How could you even think of that?!” she exclaimed.

“I couldn’t wait for you any longer,” explained Nick. “Kit said that I might squeeze through the fence, and I…”

“Nick!” his mother sternly interrupted him, “you must learn to take responsibility for what you do!”

“But Kit helped me! He said that I should stop, and then he told me the story about his being nearly run over by a car on his way home. He told me the street was very dangerous. And now I know I mustn’t walk off if none of the grown-ups are accompanying me.”

“I’m glad you understand that,” mother calmed down a little.

“I’m really sorry, I won’t run off again,” promised Nick. And then he added, quietly, “May I skip kindergarten tomorrow? Just this one time!”

On Tuesdays, mother left for work later than usual, so Nick had his breakfast at home, not at the kindergarten. It was a tough day for him, because they didn’t make you have breakfast there. He often left nearly all the oatmeal and omelette on his plate, and Tatyana the kindergarten teacher let him get away with it. But sure enough, mother wanted Nick to have a hearty breakfast which meant eating everything there was on the plate.

Nick, however, preferred sweets – chocolates, jelly beans, ice cream, cakes and other things like that. But mother kept telling him that non-sweet food was necessary and healthier. It would help him grow big and strong.

So on Tuesday, when Nick walked into the kitchen to have breakfast, mother put a plate of oatmeal before him. It wasn’t plain oatmeal: it was steaming, with sugar, and there were butter pieces floating over the oatmeal like little sailing boats. It looked really nice and tasty. Nick cast a glance at the plate and made a sour face.

“I want some chocolate!” he demanded, pushing away the plate.

“Chocolate in the morning is unhealthy,” objected mother.

But Nick didn’t listen to her, but instead kept muttering, “I don’t want oatmeal, I will have no oatmeal. I feel sick from oatmeal. My stomach just wants some chocolate.”

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