Grandpa (Dundo's father)
Otto speaks little, but when he does — the children stop breathing so they don't miss a single word. His whole life he's built things with his hands: chairs, birdhouses, wooden bridges. But the most beautiful things he builds are stories. Instead of giving advice, he tells a story — and somehow, the answer appears on its own. He loves his morning coffee on the terrace, chess with Maria, and the smell of freshly planed wood. He can't stand rushing, shallowness, and when someone wastes food.
Eva and Dundo had a rare day off without the kids. Otto and Maria eagerly stepped in, babysitting the little ones while the couple decided to revisit the place they first met. As they approached the old wooden bridge over the stream, Eva reminisced about that evening, while Dundo had a special gift hidden in his pocket.
On the terrace of the family house, under the light of the setting sun, Grandpa Otto gathers his grandchildren around him. His hands, strong and skillful, have shaped thousands of wooden creations, but now they hold only a cup of tea. "I want to tell you a story about a teacher," he begins, and Pino is already leaning forward, eyes full of curiosity. Hana sits quietly, while Jole lies beside the children, occasionally lifting his head as if he's following the story too.
In a small town by the river lived an old grandfather, Otto, who spent his life building bridges. Stone, wooden, suspension — all kinds. People came from far away to see his bridges because none of them ever collapsed. But Otto had an unusual habit. Every bridge he built, he would — after finishing it — spend the entire night on it. Alone, in silence, under the stars. His grandson Pino, who was eight years old, decided to follow him one evening. He hid behind a pillar and watched his grandfather sitting in the middle of the new bridge, legs dangling over the stone railing, whispering something to the river. "Grandpa, who are you talking to?" shouted Pino, unable to hold back any longer.
Maja inherited her grandfather's pocket watch. It was old, scratched, and — it was running late. Exactly three minutes every day. "Mom, why did grandpa leave me a broken watch?" Maja asked one evening as they sat on the balcony. Eva took the watch in her hands, turned it over, and showed her the back. There was a small engraving that Maja had noticed before but never read. The letters were tiny, worn from years of wear. Maja brought the watch closer to her eyes and began to read. When she finished, her hands were trembling. "Mom... this can't be true?" Eva simply nodded. "Your grandfather, Otto, told me this story only once. On the day I got married. He said a day would come when you would be ready to hear it too. I think today is that day."
Little Maja ran to her grandpa Otto's workshop every day after school. She loved watching his skilled hands turn pieces of wood into beautiful, functional objects. One rainy afternoon, as the rain drummed on the tin roof of the workshop, Maja noticed something intriguing. Otto was sitting in his chair, with Jole, their loyal dog, lying on the floor beside him, while Loli, their cat, sat on the window sill, observing the outside world. “Grandpa Otto,” Maja asked, “can you tell me a story?” Otto smiled, wiped his hands on his apron, and sat down beside her. “Of course, Maja. Do you know the story of the old potter and his cracked pot?” Maja raised her eyebrows curiously, and Otto continued...
