«It's New Year's in the kindergarten. Everyone dresses up in the evening. Everyone but me. I'm still wearing my old day brown flannelette dress, and you can see my brown brushed woolen bloomers. FInally, my mother appears in the doorway, squeezing her way through the crowd. Right in the doorway, she dresses me in a still wet dress. She puts a paper crown on my head. Then it's my turn to perform. Masha, Seryozha, and I read a poem. My mother, not having my dress finished, starched it and hung it to dry over the gas stove. It caught fire, leaving a hole in the front and in the back. My father sealed the holes with foil. He also carved the crown.»