Mutiny of the Little Sweeties

In the evening, the house phone rang. Mama shuddered. Their house phone rarely rang. Indeed, they often called each other on cell phones.

“Hello!” Mama said carefully, and by the special posture of her back and how she suddenly tensed up and turned to the window, everyone sensed that the owner of the house was calling, because who else could it be?

Papa and all seven children crowded around Mama and were so quiet that one could hear the scratching in Schwartz’s cage. For some reason, the children always caught on when a call was really important. When they felt that the call was not important, the noise was usually such that Mama had to either plug up her other ear with a finger to hear something at least or run into the bathroom.

Mama answered in monosyllables and it was quite impossible from her responses to figure out exactly what the old man wanted and whether he was trying to evict them from the house.

“All is lost! I know that all is lost!” Alena said loudly.

At that exact second, Mama hung up and turned to them.

“Well! Well! What?” everyone yelled.

Mama paused for a few seconds, but everyone already saw that her eyes were shining. “His granddaughter has given birth to a girl!” Mama informed them. “Grandpa is very happy and no longer wants to come here! Says the great-granddaughter is just a spitting image of him.”

“What? Also smokes tobacco and files her nails with a pumice stone?” Papa asked.

Mama waved a hand at him and Peter laughed. Alena ran around the rooms, stroked the walls, and, while kissing them, repeated, “Our house! Ours! We’ll live here for a long time!”

And then it was the usual bustling day, but a happy day, because Mama, Papa, and the seven children already knew that they would remain here. Someone fought, someone made peace, someone spilled water on the floor in the bathroom, someone whined that he would not do homework. Papa had work and Mama had the running around, laundry, and dishes. In the evening, Mama, as always, read aloud to the young ones.

Then the long preparation for bed began. Someone woke someone, someone leaped up and started jumping. Costa, whom they thought was already asleep, suddenly announced that he wanted a drink. Rita also wanted a drink and wanted to eat, and the party continued for another half an hour.

Now, however, a miracle finally happened and everyone fell asleep, including Papa, who, putting Alex and Costa down, also unnoticeably fell asleep himself.

Mama walked around all the rooms, looked at everyone, covered up everyone, pulled headphones from all the kids’ ears, and turned off the lights everywhere. Then she carefully descended the stairs to the first floor. She found the kettle and set it on the stove. The kettle began to boil with a strange, slightly embarrassed sound, which usually rumbles in the stomachs of polite people. The boiler, in which something was banging and hooting, responded to the kettle. It was felt that the kettle and the boiler were well acquainted and had known each other for a long time.

Mama sat on the edge of a chair, drank tea, nibbled on very hard rolls found in the kitchen cupboard, and mused that the greatest happiness of a mother of many children is when everyone is home and asleep.