A small tale of one’s own composition

Once upon a time there lived a little girl Nastenka in the same city. More precisely, not small, but very adult! And even went to kindergarten and learned to write letters.

But Nastenka had a very bad habit – she liked to suck her finger. Mom did not allow, but the girl still sucked her finger, especially at night when she was sleeping.

And one day Nastenka fell asleep with a finger in her mouth, woke up and saw that she was not at home in her cushy bed, but in a dense forest. The girl was frightened, burst into tears, began to call my mother:

– Ay! Ay! Mom, where are you? Mummy, I want to go home!

Then a huge bear comes out of the forest and says to the girl:

– What are you, fuzzy, crying?

– I’m not fuzzy, I’m a girl! And my name is Nastya. I’m looking for my mother. the baby sobs.

“Well, what a girl you are.” You bear cub! Look at your sugar paw! the bear replies to her.

The girl looked at her hands, but she did not have pens, but her paws! Mohnatnenkie such, with sharp black kogotochkami. The girl was even more upset. And the bear calms her:

“Do not cry, my dear.” You... can not go to the cubs alone in the forest. Let me while I live. “

And Nastenka with the bear began to live. Together in the bushes malinka was harvested, weeds and roots were eaten.

Time passed, winter came. Mishka made a cozy den. It was covered with snow and inside it became warm and cozy. Nastenka started to sleep for the winter in winter:

– Curl up more conveniently with a fagot, shove your sugar paw in your mouth, close your eyes and fall asleep. In the spring, I’ll wake you.

The girl curled up. But then I remembered about my mother, which I really missed. And she did not take a paw in her mouth. I put my paws under my face and fell asleep.

And Nastenka woke up at home, in her warm, soft, crib. This mother woke the girl to take her to the kindergarten. Nastya looked at her hands, and there are no longer sugar paws, but fingers!

Now Nastenka listens to her mother and behaves like a girl, and not as a bear cub and does not take a finger in her mouth anymore. Mishka, of course, it is a pity to throw one, but with his mother live much more fun and more pleasantly.


A small tale of one’s own composition