This little bit of silence between words... how I enjoy it so much. Nothing else can compare to this. Something about silence... it is as just it has been ever since. There's a kind of peacefulness and organization in silence that can't be found anywhere else. And then, comes the spoon hitting porcelain, again and again. Good thing is that the tea is still warm. Warm, tasteful, delicious, hmmm... flavored? Magnificent. Yes, that's the word.
— ...I don't know what happens when you give a child enough sugar. Sugar ain't good. Not when you are taking care of well-educated children, I mean.
Why silence must be broken? I wonder. If it won't be broken by me, so will be by the grass. My, grass growing underneath the table? Don't be silly. I might check out if there are any anthills under table, under bed. Nothing good comes out anthills at home. They eat too much sugar.
— ...Children and sugar do not mix, but I know they deserve of the best. And the best I have to offer is a balance between effort and reward. Study enough and you may earn a candy, I say. I do not say 'candy' in front of them, but instead, I call it by, uh... reward. Yes, reward. Candy is one of the many rewards I give to my children, to make them study and behave well when they really do.
Soon they'll learn that there are more rewards than sugar poured on their mouths. Yes, they'll do. More than sugar. And what kids do not learn with books, they learn on the streets. Streets are no place for discipline and etiquette and... open roads. Outside the blurred window, there are open roads. You can walk from here to there, a hundred miles away, take a look at the clouds, at the skies, at the...
''...My, don't stare at the sun! I told you to not stare at it!''
''But mom! Sunny days are so beautiful.''
''Beautiful? Stare at the Lady of the Cold. She's beautiful, and will freeze you to death if you notice her beauty. Just like the sun. It'll melt your precious eyes if you stare at it for so long.''
''Melt? My eyes are going to melt?''
''No, darling. They won't. But would you like to be blind? At your age?''
''It's so dark, mom. Like home.''
''At home you're safe, my child.''
''But I like here. The garden, the tree, the clouds... the sun? Where is everything?''
''The sun is like any fire. It's beautiful, warm, but if you come closer, it might burn you. Burn your eyes.''
''My eyes? The sun that lights the flowers burned my eyes?''
''Now you can't see anything, tell what's beautiful or not. Do you like the darkness?''
''No! I don't. I don't like home. It's scary, it's dark, so scary... It's all dark, mom!''
''It won't be dark forever. You won't be blind, of course not.''
''Soon it'll be dark. I'll miss a sunny day...''
''Darling... there'll always be sunny days, as long as I am with you.''
...If a single piece of sunflower dropped on my tea, would it taste awful? Maybe Moominmamma has the asnswer. Not that I want to ask her anything. Anything like this. It's irrelevant. Words are well appreciated together of a well appreciated silence. Too much silence, for a house filled of children.
— Listen, Moominmamma... I'm not the kind of person that invites anyone. Not without a reason. Don't trust in strangers, I say to myself and my children. Well, ever since I came to Moominvalley, the Moomins are no more strange to me. Strange as a way of saying, eh...
''...What's that? Oh, my dear! Tretta! What have you done!?''
''Oh, hi momma!''
''There's dirt everywhere! Your clothes are dirty! The carpet... my carpet! Why, you... explain yourself, missy!''
''The moomins have a tree in the living room, momma.''
''Trees do not grow in living rooms.''
''But the Moomins!...''
''Yes, the Moomins. Think they are the best for having a tree on the living room, huh? But you see, my dear... trees grow out of seeds. And you can't just scatter dirt around and expect a plant to grow out of nothing. Understand?''
''Uh huh. Momma, how do you grow a tree?''
''Oh, that's easy. All you have to do is find a seed, and dig a hole.''
''Can I dig a hole in the living room?''
''No, you can't. Go outside. No, wait. They can't look at my child... at you dear, not like that. Beneath all this filth you are so... so... Oh, I forgot the word.''
''Radiant?''
''Yes. Radiant. I'd say effulgent, splendent, coruscating... Well, enough of that. You'll be taking a bath.''
''But momma, I don't like baths!''
''You asked for it.''
— ...You know. Yes, you do. That's why I called you here today... to say, confirm and agree that the Moomins are a bad influence for my children.
My, I'm so upset. I have a reason to. A very good reason. Tea is good to calm my nerves. So much good. Life has so much good to offer. Well, let's not forget the bad. The many bad things, I'll tell you.
— ...where was I? Oh, I never drank a whole bottle of maple syrup in my life. Yes, a whole bottle! Could you believe in it? As I went away from home, one of my kids went to kitchen, crawled to the upper cabinet, opened it and found a bottle of sweet maple syrup. One of my kids, did I said? Sorry, but no. Of course not! The three of them worked together to get that bottle! Etta, Votta and the little Tretta. Look at the size of that bottle! There should had been enough syrup for the whole winter, but you see, it's empty. Empty! I can't stay away from home that these kind of things just happen. And I blame the Moomins with reason.
The tea just turned cold. Is it winter approaching? The Lady of the Cold?
— ...I do not believe my kids are a bad influence to yours, Mrs. Fillyjonk.
— But I do, Moominmamma. My children never did this kind of thing before they met your... kind.
— How can you be so sure? – hmmm... I might not be sure. The Moomins are weird, they enjoy doing the unusual. What happened today was very unusual, the kind of thing a Moomin would do, right? Oh well, I'm not even sure, yet I have no one to blame. No one but myself. Was it really my fault? What have I done wrong?
— I better check how my dear children are doing. They've been too quiet, not that I do not mind – yes, I admit, I hate silence. This kind of silence is louder than words. I leave the table as I go upstairs, so Moominmamma follows me too. She seems worried as I do.
— Momma... – which one said that? I'm listening to their tummies, hearing groans out a creature. Frog on the throat, heard that a lot, but that's impossible – my tummy hurts, mom.
— indeed, it should hurt – why am I touching each their chins if they haven't got fever? Everytime I see them covered in blankets and shivering and whimpering, fever comes to mind. With the lots of sugar they ate, for sure they'll have fever dreams when night comes.
— Sorry, mom – sorry? You are sorry? Doing this with me, the one who brought you this mean world...
— There won't be dinner – just saying. Do they hear me? Hear with stomach...
— But mom-
— No dinner! You ungrateful! Little! Brats!... Think it was easy to take care of you after your father left? Was it easy? Of course not! I broke my back several times so I could give you a good life. I gave you a good home, a good education, a good meal and that's how you answer all this gratitude and hospitability? By disobeying your mother, breaking your mother's heart...
Every inch of my body trembles, like an earthquake. Earthquake? Oh, that's just me, boiling, melting in a cauldron of hatred...
— ...And don't look at me like this. It won't work. There won't be dinner, and that's it!
Hatred? For my kids? The frightened look in each of their eyes... it's something I'll never forget. Tretta was so scared, I... I'll never, ever forgive myself. Will you, Moominmamma?
— Weren't you a bit harsh with your children, Mrs. Fillyjonk? – a bit harsh? I wasn't even trying to. Was that me who said such things? Gosh, I can't believe it, did I slammed the door? Or were my words that loud? Oh my...
— My apologies. I... I should have been more polite. Really sorry.
— It's fine. I've been throught same pressure as you do, Mrs. Fillyjonk.
— You mean... Have you... shouted at your own kids? Those little pretty things that you've been holding with such care and... love? Shout at them? – I must admit the Moomins have their own problems too.
— No one is perfect – yes, not even the Moomins are perfect. But... shout? I feel so, so... I'd have to improve a lot to say I feel bad.
— ...Moominmamma? – between chewing nails, I was able to say something. Yuck!... It ain't as disgusting as yelling...
— Yes?
— Can you do something for me?... I may be a tough teacher, but no doctor. Could you... could you call a doctor to heal my children, please?
— I will find a doctor for your kids.
— Thank you, Moominmamma...
— Uh, Mrs. Fillyjonk? Will you follow me?
— No. I must stay. To take care of the house, and the kids... – yes, stay. With the kids... after, eh, saying... those... those things.
I yelled at them. What if I made them even more sick? How can I even look to their faces after that? I shouldn't have yelled at them. They might have done something bad, but I did worse. Way worse... can't even think right. I wasn't thinking right...