Harry returned home from school looking gloomy. His mother immediately understood: another dismal grade. She examined his school diary, and it was just as she suspected. She summoned her husband for assistance, who comprehended the issue without saying a word. “Come with me!” he summoned his son and headed into the kitchen. “Now, tell me, what’s up with you? We study together every day, so why are you getting low grades?”

His expression contorted with concern. “No tears!” Men do not cry. They accept responsibility for their faults!” “Okay, I’ll try. “I see, Dad…” “Why did you stop? Speak Up! “Be brave!” “is sitting in front of me…” “Who is she?” “Kuana.” “And? Is she so large that she blocks the blackboard? Simply ask the teacher to move you. “What is the problem?” “No, she is not huge. But her hair is so long and gorgeous!”

“What kind of hair?” the father said, astonished. “Long and lush!” It reaches her waistline! I sit there looking at her hair. I can’t see or hear anything. That’s why my teacher gets me poor grades.” “So, that’s what it’s about,” the father said, hardly concealing a smile that threatened to break through. “Yes, it’s about the hair.” He remembered his wife’s hair. “Alright,” he said.

“We need to make a decision now. You keep gazing at hair until you finish school, or you are a superb student and Masha can no longer distract you. “Do you understand what I am saying?” “I think so,” he said hesitantly. “Alright, go do your homework.””Well, what’s the verdict?” her husband inquired. “He is in love.” “With the hair in front of him.” “Your genes,” his wife said with a smile and hug.