How Many Bowls Of Pasta Should You Eat

Tales of Ordinary Heroism FAMILY

My daughter by the short name of an event.
Six months and is already a radical chic ...

SETTING
The scene takes place in the family room Galetti Jourdan, on a night of madness intrafamigliare home, with two families with children (five in all). Comrade Albis called "Eroica" the decision to host a dinner during the week a family with three small children average.
BACKGROUND
The Precenico is overheated as a result of the decision to make "dance music", using a channel known as the internet watching videos. Are all the songs ranging from Santana to the cartons animati. Bambini che ballano in canottiera, mia figlia dal nome corto che guarda attonita dalla sdraietta, io chiuso in cucina, sordo a ogni richiamo. La cena fila via senza l'uso della forza da parte delle autorità preposte.
IL DOPO CENA
Al termine della cena i bambini giocano a devastare la sala, i grandi chiacchierano. Si avvicina l'ora della nanna. Intorno al divano pare che sia caduto un 747, quasi non si vede il pavimento. Dal popolo giunge la proposta " mettiamo ancora un pò di musica, poi si va a dormire ".
Con il solito spirito provocatore che lo caratterizza, il Signor EmmeGi si avvicina al computer e ignorando ogni richiesta infantile ( "voio anna dai papelli rossi!" "voio Peppina makes the cafe! "voio santana, oie como va!" ) make up the national anthem of the Soviet Union.
howls of protest. not only by children. Mr. Emmegi fuck it and let the song terms.
and sways' like a skittle
We are in the process of demobilization. My daughter is named after the medium short-tired and over-excited, and then right when tidying loses his head, crying and kicking like a mule owned by the devil , with a little effort I can calm her down. But his colleague, AA girl lying on the remains of the sofa, none of it to dress up, Comrade Albis the threat. For a split second the heads of the two girls are close. Too nearby.
In a second fatal mate Albis gives a patun "(Piedmontese word indicating a flip, much less of a slap) on the ass of her child, which starts forward like a torpedo. There are a few centimeters of displacement, but enough to kill my daughter, shot in the head by the head of his fellow child, staggers like a bowling pin. His psycho-physical balance, still weak after the hysterics just finished, go fuck yourself and the baby opens his mouth screaming and gushing tears like in the cartoons.
The evening ends with serenity.