Lou hoped that her uncle would never find a girl and that she would also come to work with them, sometimes taking photos of her, because "subscribers loved his niece very much." The Moon and uncle, as always, will come up with different images. Besides, Arthur supported her in that vampire fangs, red mascara or a witch's hat in photographs look much cooler than pink sequins, princess crowns or fairy wands. And Arthur brought her niece striped stripes, an Indian headdress, bat wings, and other funny things, applied her makeup and asked her mother to hold a reflector. Especially for photo experiments, one wall in the living room was left completely white. “White is now in fashion,” Mom explained to Dad, “Scandinavian style.”
Mom, too, used to take advantage of her brother's presence and sent him and Luna to cook dinner.
- Arthur, you are already a big boy, deal with the food yourself! She said.
- Okay, boss! Arthur nodded.
- Okay, boss! - repeated the Moon.
And it happened that uncle and his nephew baked cakes, just like that, for fun.
The moon loved it when Arthur put on a red apron in a large white pea with a frill at the bottom and long wide ties. This apron with a cheerful color was presented to my mother by my grandmother, but in their family, he was not popular. Arthur adored everything bright, wore a yellow sweatshirt with green jeans and, of course, chose a red apron.
And he always joked equally:
- Bullfight! Arthur exclaimed, grabbing his apron and waving it like a bullfighter waving a red rag in front of the bull.
Luna was skeptical about her uncle, arms folded across her chest.
- Come on, make a mu! - Uncle begged the moon.
- I'm a girl! - reminded Luna, barely holding back a smile.
- Oh! - Arthur surrendered and put on an apron. “I'll have to ask the pajama stork to bring me a nephew.”
Lou came up and poked her uncle on a thin side, folding a “goat” from her fingers.
- Here is the “mu” for you!
And they laughed. They never got tired of this little ritual before cooking.
Once, when an uncle suggested "stirring up" charlotte, Lou, drawing traces in the flour scattered on the table, complained that she did not like her name.
- Why? Asked the uncle, cutting out a core from an apple.
Lou shrugged.
- How do parents choose names?
Uncle grunted and wiped his hands on his apron.
“I have, you know, no experience in such things.” Our sister called our parrot and cat as a child herself - Gesha and Gosha. I don’t even remember which of this couple was who. And who eventually ate someone ... and your sister was not going to consult with me about your name. But I like. That sounds sweet.
Lou grimaced.
- Here is Vika - Victoria - means “victory”. Arthur is the bear.
- Wow! - Uncle was delighted. “I didn't know!” And what does Alina mean? - he asked.
Lou waved it off.
- Some kind of nonsense.
Arthur cut the apple into slices, put it in a silicone baking dish and suddenly asked:
- Do you want to be the moon?
“I like the Moon more,” the girl agreed. “I like it.”
“Then I will probably take the two letters of your name and give my“ u, ”Arthur decided.
“A dishonest exchange,” said the future Moon.
“But you need it,” the uncle reminded. - It's simple: the law of supply and demand. I dictate my terms. Yes, and you will not become the moon if you do not give me two letters.
“You're right,” Alina surrendered. - I agree!
So Alina became the Moon, and her uncle - Artair. Time passed, and the Fox appeared in the family. Lou sometimes wondered if the dog liked her name? And she was not so categorically related to the fact that her parents once called her Alina.
But she preferred to be called the Moon.
Lou and Lissa returned home after a morning walk. Scrambled eggs fried loudly in the kitchen, smelled of coffee, toast, and boiled sausages.
Mom left the kitchen in the hallway, wiping her hands with a towel on the go. Lou admired her mom. How beautiful she was! Even in the morning, sleepy, with a light brown tail casually gathered on the top, in an old, elongated but beloved t-shirt for sleeping and in pajama pants.
For the love of such clothes, Artair always teased his sister with “pajama” nicknames: a tamer of pajamas, a pajama hermit and a pajama workaholic, of course.
- I appreciate every second! Go home and out in your pajamas! Dressing in the morning and evening, you spend one hundred and fifteen thousand three hundred thirty-three seconds of your life! Do not have time to look back, and night will come again, and there and old age! Pajamas - to offices, pajamas - to the masses! - chanted Artair, waving a tripod.
“I don’t walk down the street in pajama pants,” my mother objected, trying to concentrate on work.
And the restless brother was in no hurry to open his laptop.
- This is the next step in evolution. What do you write there again? Scenario for the action movie "Runaway Pajamas"? We will have a pajama party, when will this masterpiece appear in all cinemas in the country?
“We’ll arrange a pajama party when you get married and don’t hide in my house from mom’s notations,” retorted my mother.