Numbers six and seven. I won't say much about Father and me. The former is the most modest person at the table.
He always looks to see whether the others have been served first.
He needs nothing for himself; the best things are for the children. He's goodness personified.
Seated next to him is the Annex's little bundle of nerves. Dussel.
Help yourself, keep your eyes on the food, eat and don't talk. And if you have to say something, then for goodness' sake talk about food.
That doesn't lead to quarrels, just to bragging.
He consumes enormous portions, and “no” is not part of his vocabulary, whether the food is good or bad.
Pants that come up to his chest, a red jacket, black patent-leather slippers and horn-rimmed glasses --
that's how he looks when he's at work at the little table, always studying and never progressing.
This is interrupted only by his afternoon nap, food and -- his favorite spot -- the bathroom.
Three, four or five times a day there's bound to be someone waiting outside the bathroom door,
hopping impatiently from one foot to another, trying to hold it in and barely managing.
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