A riddle

I love riddles.

Especially if they are about life. And even more, if I make a guess, but my grandfather-doctor guesses. He probably read a thousand books in his life. Some of them were in non-existent languages, for example, in Latin. I saw one such one: there are many drawings in it, mainly with blood and all sorts of budgies. It is called "Ansientmedisine", which means "Prehistoric Medicine".

As a rule, of course, grandfather guesses everything. But sometimes I get lucky and come up with a riddle on the go. It puts him at the end of the road. I mean, to a dead end. Yesterday he was not lucky - the riddle was lying under my feet.

I stood in with a telephone receiver and examined myself in the world around me in the mirror. He said something about his last trip for clay for pots.

- Grandfather, come on with riddles!

Grandfather immediately interrupted his story with the words “minder” or “potter” and answered:

- O, sure! I'm listening.

- Something lies on the floor and stops me from passing by.

In a second:

- Boots.

- No.

- Slippers.

- No.

- Boots.

- Nope!

And my grandfather listed the wardrobe items that he saw on me this fall, and even something came from my mother’s. In riddles, he, you know, is a "grated pancake", so he didn’t want to give in so easily and took up my toys.

 - Jeep.

 - No.

 - The fire.

- Also no.

And he listed my entire fleet. And this is neither more nor less, but seventeen cars, except for a race car with a broken door.

“I give up,” he finally gave up.

- This is my money, grandfather!

Silence.

- Mom, you know... I collected all the little things and dropped them when I put it in my pocket. Just then you called. So they still lie - neither bread to me, nor any other benefit from them. For riddles only.

- Money ... - Grandfather, apparently, recalled some kind of tricky book expression. - They love the bill! And the riddle is good. Pulls a million!

And he laughed as only he could.

I said that riddles about life are the most difficult. I realized long ago that life is a complicated thing. But grandfather is sorry - he, like a little, sculpts all the pots.