Short funny fairy tale About the old grandmother - one of the most beloved Russians folk tales in children preschool age. You can read the fairy tale about the old grandmother online or download the text in DOC and PDF format.
The fairy tale begins quite funny, and resembles the matryoshka model: From more to less or vice versa. Grandmother, granddaughter, chicken, mouse. The grandmother’s water dishes are large buckets, her granddaughter’s are smaller, the chicken’s is the size of a cucumber, and the mouse’s is the size of a thimble. They collect water in the same way: the grandmother from a well, the granddaughter from a log, the chicken from a puddle, and the mouse from a pig’s hoof. As a result, it becomes clear why the emphasis is placed on their size; it turned out that their fears correspond to their size: The grandmother was afraid of the bear, the granddaughter was afraid of the wolf, the chicken was afraid of the fox, and the mouse was afraid of the cat.
The main moral of the tale lies on the surface, Fear has big eyes. But after analyzing the tale more deeply, you can draw conclusions and stumble upon a deeper meaning. For each value, there are corresponding sizes of needs and behavior. big ship– a big swim, a small dog, a puppy until old age. This does not mean the size that can be seen with the naked eye, but the size to which a person has grown in terms of intelligence, worldview, and the stage of personality formation. If a person is shallow in soul, uneducated and has not matured as a person, the thoughts, desires and actions of such a person will also be insignificantly shallow. A person whose personality is in complete harmony in biological, social and psychological terms, thinks differently, the actions and habits of the first psychotype are not characteristic of him.
A fairy tale about an old grandmother and a laughing granddaughter is a clear example folk proverbs:
Fear has big eyes, The devil is not as scary as he is painted, Fear has eyes that are small and can’t even see crumbs, Fear makes the eyes pop out of their heads, For some, thunder is not thunder, but a drum is scary, Fear has nine pairs of eyes.
Greetings, blog readers!
Apart from collecting jokes and all kinds of cool phrases, aphorisms and sayings, I have been collecting funny, amusing incidents from Life for a long time. Previously, I wrote them down on paper or kept them in memory, but now it is possible to publish them for wide range blog readers.
I bring to your attention two stories from village life. In which village, in which region the events took place, I find it difficult to answer, they told me this myself, I only made a literary cut. The first story is about a strange, mysterious summer resident who started living near the village. Second humorous story about the influence of unprintable words that are usually not spoken in front of women and children. So, read on!
Unrespectable deal
Our village is small. Previously, of course, there were more, until in the early nineties it democratically left the collective farm “Red Vegetable Grower”. And as soon as it came out, it fell into disrepair. The youth left, the men who were quicker moved to the city, only the old people and former collective farm drunkards remained.
It seemed that everything was kaput. But no. A circumstance happened that slightly extended the existence of the village. At the beginning of the same nineties, either a deputy, or a general, or a businessman, or a new Russian, or a bandit, or an aspiring oligarch drove past our place - in a word, a wealthy peasant in terms of money. He liked our place and decided to build himself a dacha.
Boiled construction work. First they were built by soldiers, then they were replaced by representatives of nations Central Asia. The village came to life: old women sold moonshine to shock builders, and men carried various building materials from the construction site. The building materials were drunk or used to repair outbuildings. Life in the village was in full swing.
And so they built a dacha. The construction turned out well: three floors, two satellite dishes and a two-meter brick fence with an iron gate. But the new building looked somehow unsightly and lonely among the blackened, rickety huts and dilapidated chicken coops. The builders left, the local men drank away the last of the cement, sand and pipe scraps. Life in the village came to a standstill again.
The owner of the mansion rarely appeared. Basically, he arrived on Friday evening, hid behind a red brick fence, behaved quietly and inconspicuously, did not communicate with anyone, and on Sunday evening he left for the city again. In the spring, he did not come to the flood at all, especially after the incident when his jeep-SUV sank in a puddle. All sorts of rumors circulated among the people about an unknown mysterious inhabitant.
One day, before the May holidays, an incredible incident happened. The iron gates suddenly opened and the owner himself came out. And he came out not alone, but with a wheelbarrow loaded with brushwood and branches. The brushwood and branches were carefully brought to the forest, which was located about thirty steps from the dacha. Then, the situation repeated itself - apparently the mysterious inhabitant on his property began seriously pruning trees.
Local men realized: what if they help? Maybe a couple of bottles will drop for work? IN once again When the owner came out with a wheelbarrow, a simple village peasant named Afanasy approached him. Shy, Afanasy said that it was not good for such a respectable gentleman to do such an undignified task alone, and also hinted that for just four bubbles and half a loaf of sausage, a team of highly qualified specialists would do everything for him in the best possible way. The owner reacted with understanding, saying that he was pretty tired of driving the wheelbarrow to the forest, and there were still a lot of branches.
He disappeared behind the heavy iron gates. Half an hour later, the gates opened and a black jeep SUV drove out... At the back of the jeep was a well-known wheelbarrow loaded with brushwood and branches. The SUV accelerated and braked sharply near the forest...
The power of the unprintable word
Our village is located in a picturesque place middle zone countries. There is a forest, a river, a lake and clean air around. Old-timers remember how in the old days artists came to our region with the goal of capturing nature for subsequent generations, before they spoiled it with the benefits of civilization.
And now they come, but not from painters, but from city dwellers, ordinary city dwellers. They come not with the goal of creating a work of art, but with the goal, to put it mildly, to relax and unwind in the bosom of Nature, pour into themselves an excessive amount of all kinds of alcohol, eat it with something and fall to sleep on the mortal earth.
At first, the villagers were outraged by the indecent behavior of the townspeople. But then they began to take advantage of this situation. The benefits consisted of selling moonshine, lard, herbs, vegetables, fruits and other foods to vacationers that it was a pity to throw away, but the dogs did not eat. Grandfather Tromfimchuk even began to rent out his boat, asking for three packs of foreign cigarettes for the service. The village came to life a little...
But one circumstance greatly upset local residents. The fact is that city residents have gotten into the habit of washing their cars right next to the lake. One could have ignored this, but oily spots began to float on the clear water surface, and the fish began to smell of gasoline. And we ourselves are not pleased when Nature is polluted.
At first, the city people were asked to be kind. They persuaded and explained. But persuasion and requests had no effect on them. Each of the vacationers considered it his duty to wash his car by the lake. Moreover, they washed in the same place, where there was a suitable access to the shore.
Locals began to use physical and forceful methods of persuasion, but this did not live up to expectations; on the contrary, it attracted crowds of police officers and investigators to the village and increased the activity of the local district police officer. In addition, the law enforcement officers themselves began to wash away the city dirt in the village lake. The situation of the villagers seemed hopeless. But no, a humane way to save the environmental situation was soon found.
One fine day off, a smug and confident city resident drove up to the lake to wash his foreign car. He started washing, and out of the corner of his eye he saw several local residents coming down from the hill towards him. The residents do not scold or swear, as they did before, but laugh, smile and point their fingers at him. This greatly surprised and discouraged the townsman. He was even more surprised by the appearance of grandfather Tromfimchuk with a camera. The grandfather captured the process of washing a car, a smug and confident driver, and then close up I photographed a small sign saying that it was fun near an improvised natural car wash. Having taken photographs, Trofimchuk laughed, followed by the rest of the village residents.
The sign appeared quite recently, but had a magical effect on the locals: it turned anger and indignation into laughter. Yes, instead of being indignant at the behavior of the townspeople, the villagers began to simply laugh at them. So, what was written on this sign? Let's come and read...
Oh! No! The author, knowing that his story is read by women, children, philologists, teachers of Russian language and literature, simply finds it difficult to convey literally the text written on the tablet, so he decided to publish his free translation, which only remotely conveys the meaning. This is what happens: “Here, people of unconventional sexual orientation, immediately after they have been used in an unnatural form with the help of rotators, hammer drills, crankshafts, hard abrasives, other people of non-traditional sexual orientation wash away their (adjectives, not translated) means of transportation. Note: the vehicles are made from fecal matter covered with other natural secretions, the presence of fecal matter is directly proportional to the confident expression on the face of the deprived of intelligence.
The translation turned out to be large, although less was written on the tablet. But on the other hand, the city stopped washing cars by the lake. And they still don’t wash it. This is the power of the unprintable word!
scaryno.comSo, my grandmother is a very superstitious person, she believes in brownies, goblins, etc. I remember that in the evenings my grandmother always spoiled us with village fables. And then one summer day, grandma told us a story about her meeting with a brownie. This happened winter evening, Granny, after a hard day in the village, finally went to rest, fell asleep instantly, and as she said, she woke up from a strange feeling: it seemed as if someone was looking at her from the darkness.
She looked around at no one, and then tried to fall asleep, but the presence of the gaze on herself did not disappear, on the contrary, it intensified. Granny opens her eyes, and in the aisle between the beds stands a tall creature, as she said, all covered with fur. (I still remember, I laughed so much, grandma thought it was my grandfather, she even called him, saying, “Kol, is that you?” But she didn’t hear an answer). So he stands there, looks and puts his hands to his throat, but strashno.com my fighting granny was not taken aback and screamed: “Go to hell!” And the creature stamped its foot, hooted and disappeared. Then the rooster crowed - it’s time to get up.
Grandma told grandfather everything, but he only twisted it at his temple.
The day passed calmly with household chores, everything seemed to be forgotten. We sat down to dinner. The lights in the village are often turned off and this evening was no exception. Granny set the table and went into the kitchen to get salt. While she was pouring salt into the salt shaker, she heard wheezing. I called out to my grandfather - silence. She runs into the dining room, and grandfather is all blue, barely breathing - he has choked. Grandma, let’s save him, she stuck her hand down his throat, grandfather began to bite his hand involuntarily, the pain was hellish, as she said. He then bit her hand right through, so she barely managed to get a piece of meat and saved her grandfather. The strangest thing is that when the grandfather began to breathe, the grandmother said - the breeze blew strashno.com and the door slammed, and in the light of a candle on the door she saw a shadow... with a scythe. Apparently death came for him, but his grandmother did not let him be taken away.
The grandmother immediately remembered that night creature, apparently it came to warn the grandmother that grandfather was in danger.
My grandmother on my mother’s side, Anastasia Fedorovna, was born in 1947 in the village of Zhuravkino, Zubovo-Polyansky district of Mordovia. The village was located on the territory of the Mordovian Moksha, who have their own dialect, unlike Erzya, where the Mordovian speech is slightly different. Speaking of language, Dutch words remind my mother of Mordovian. Of course, the differences between Moksha and Erzya were not only in speech, but also, for example, in clothing, but this will be discussed later.
Grandmother had 4 brothers and one sister - large families were commonplace at that time. Talking about life in the village, the grandmother said that they used soda and ash for washing, salt for brushing their teeth (they brushed with their fingers), and washed their hair with scented milk, the one that was left over from the production of cream. Grandma says that she washed her hair once a week and her hair was silky, and she did not use any face creams. Neither my grandmother nor her mother used cosmetics. Although my grandmother said that there was one girl in the village who loved to preen herself - she painted her face with starch, her cheeks with beets, and her eyebrows with soot. However, I did not specify whether men liked that girl. There was also cologne in the village - well-known to everyone: “Carnation”, “Chypre” and “Triple”. The women's version of the perfume was “Red Poppy”.
In the village, not all products could be bought, and what was possible to buy was made with their own hands in order to save money. For example, felt boots were made by ourselves, although they were sold on the market. Usually, felt felters went from house to house and asked who needed felt boots. Then they stayed in one house in the village and everyone brought orders there. You could also buy clothes at the market, although my grandmother’s mother knew how to sew and sewed not only for her family, but also to order for her neighbors.
New Year was not so popular in the village. Christmas and Easter were especially celebrated. Epiphany and patronal feasts were also celebrated - those designated by the village church. In Kovylkino, such temple holidays were celebrated on November 21, December 22, as well as on the 6th day of Easter - the “life-giving source”.
In winter, at Epiphany, all the women went out with their children in the morning, and the men sprinkled them with snow. Grandma said that they could have “sprinkled snow with shovels.” It’s hard for me to imagine this, but the granny continued with a smile: “Two men used to lead a woman from both sides, and with the snow, she didn’t want to go, but they dragged her.”
Trinity, which is celebrated in the summer and always on Sunday, began to be celebrated on Saturday. The girls gathered, broke thin birch trees and made gates out of them, this was done in a clearing, and festivities took place there. On Monday, the “tenants” came out, also made gates from birch trees, took tables out into the street, moonshine, wine, food - whoever had what, and celebrated. Grandmother said that there were only women (yes, wine and moonshine are only for women), because the Trinity is women's holiday. “But of course,” said the grandmother.
Here are some stories of my relatives.
1. She told me this story sister my grandmother - b. Nina. All of the following happened during the Great Patriotic War. Grandma Nina was still just a girl then (she was born in 1934). And then one day Nina stayed overnight with her neighbor, Aunt Natasha. And in the villages it was customary to keep chickens in a fence in the house. And Aunt Natasha also had chickens. Now everyone has already gone to bed: Natasha is on the bed, and her children and Nina with them are on the stove. The lights were turned off... The chickens also calmed down... Silence... Suddenly, suddenly in the dark, one of the chickens - rrrrrrrrr! - and jumped over the fence! The chickens got worried. T. Natasha got up and drove the chicken back. Just settled down, and again - bang! - the hens cackled, and one flew over again. T. Natasha stood up, lit a torch and turned to the invisible spirit that was bothering the chickens: “Atamanushka, for better or for worse? “And she looks: standing in front of her is a small man, about a meter tall, in such an interesting striped robe, with a belt, and the same pants. He says: “In two days you will find out.” And then he grabbed one chicken, strangled it and threw it on the stove with the children. And then he went underground. Two days later, Comrade Natasha received a funeral from the front: her husband died...
2. And my grandmother told me this. Once her late mother Evdokia after working day lay down on the stove to rest. And I spent the night alone. And then he hears - someone very close, as if even at the bottom of the stove, sharpening a knife. The sound is so characteristic: the grinding of metal on a block. Evdokia was seriously scared. He looks down from the stove, and there’s no one there. As soon as he lies down, he looks at the ceiling and hears someone sharpening a knife again. “Well,” thinks Evdokia, “my death has come!” And she began to go through all the prayers she knew in her mind and be baptized. And he hears - this sound becomes distant, distant, and then disappears completely... Grandmother says that in the villages they used to make stoves with salt, and evil spirits, as you know, are afraid of salt. So, perhaps, without reading the prayer, Evdokia would not have died.
3. And my grandmother told me this story. She once worked as a janitor. They were sitting on a bench with the women, relaxing, talking, and the conversation turned to evil spirits. So one woman says: “Why go far? This is what happened to me. I was sitting at home with the child, but my son, Vanechka, was born. My husband left for work in the morning, Vanya was sleeping in the cradle, and I decided to take a nap. I’m lying there, dozing, and I feel like someone is pulling me under the bed. I jumped up and ran out of the apartment! And straight to your neighbor. I come running and say: “Please, help me take Vanya out of the apartment! I’m really afraid to go in!” My neighbor was a military man and was in a hurry to go to work. He says: “Oh, I have no time. Ask someone else, Maria Fedorovna, for example.” Maria Fedorovna is also our neighbor on the landing. Well, I'll hurry up to her. And she says to me: “Go to your apartment, turn around yourself three times at the threshold, and then walk boldly and don’t be afraid of anything.” That's what I did. Once I spun around - nothing, the second time I started spinning - I saw some strange creature standing in the apartment, either a person or something else. I already closed my eyes, spun around for the third time, I looked - and there was such a very scary man! He looks at me with narrowed eyes, as if mockingly, and says: “What, you guessed it?!” Now look for your Vanya” - and disappeared! I rushed into the apartment, quickly to the cradle, but there was no child there. I was already scared: did he throw the child off the balcony?! We live on the third floor. I quietly looked from the balcony - no, no one was lying on the ground. I started looking in the apartment, looked everywhere, and barely found it. This creature swaddled my child and stuck it in the space between the wall and the gas stove. But Vanechka is asleep and doesn’t hear anything. And only then I found out that there once lived in our apartment a man, a bitter drunkard, who hanged himself in this entrance.”