Came today a neighbor with a three year old granddaughter Masha, and she tells a poem of my deep childhood: Masha wearing mittens. - Oh, where I finger the case? No finger, was gone, In your house was not hit! Masha took off a mitten. - Look, I found it! Keep looking and you will find. Hello finger! How do they live? And me at once the "Muse" visited to make a salad in the form of mittens. Of course, there are many now on clearance, but maybe someone will be useful.