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At the beginning, I saw the gardenia blooming, and described it.
Then write that Dad likes to plant gardenias, reminiscent of being naughty when he was young, and likes to pick the flower bones of Dad's gardenias, Dad is helpless, smiled tolerantly and even let me ride on his back to pick flowers.
When I grew up, I was still very naughty, and I took a paintbrush to paint on the half-opened gardenias, and although my father was distressed, he also accompanied me to paint.
Later, when I grew up, the gardenias were finally in full bloom and no longer had to be ravaged by me, but I always felt that something was missing.
Looking at my father's gray hair and the lock on the door of my room, I suddenly understood that there was a lack of family affection with my father, (less innocence), I miss those naughty years, and I miss the generation gap with my father when I was a child.
So I watered the gardenias with my dad (indicating that I had returned to that love without barriers).
Lyrical, compared, described.
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No, on a sunny Sunday, my dad was taking a nap, I felt bored, my eyes rolled, and I was "counting". I tiptoed to grab my watercolor pen and quickly drew a pair of dark glasses around my father's eyes, my father snorted, I squatted down and saw that my father didn't react much, and I quickly drew a few whiskers next to his mouth, just like a kitten. At this time, Dad wiped his face with his hand, and this time it was good, his face was spent.
I wanted to laugh, but I didn't dare, I quickly clicked a "beauty mole" on the corner of my father's mouth, this is good, I used a lot of force, and my father woke up. I wanted to run away, but my dad grabbed me. I thought, this is over, it must be a fat beating, and I hurriedly smiled all over my face, grinning and ......Dad looked into my drooping eyes and said:
What bad things have you done again......What followed was a ...... of "wolf crying, collapse of the shed, and howling of ghosts".
Not only was I so naughty at home, but I was also known as a "naughty ghost" at school.
It was April Fool's Day, and the teacher was lecturing on the podium, and when she came down to me, I took out a note that I had written in advance and pasted it on the teacher's back. The teacher was writing on the blackboard, and the whole class laughed, which made the teacher laugh silly, and quickly looked at his clothes, and one of the students said, "Teacher, you have a ...... on your back."The teacher hurriedly took off his shirt and read it aloud to everyone
I'm a teacher, don't fool me......I panicked and lowered my head hard, but the teacher still knew, cough, unlucky, in fact, bad luck was ....... in my "proud" eyesAs a result, he was punished by the teacher for standing.
You can see it, I'm not famous for being naughty, cough, I can't really ..... it
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Naughty years) What is childhood? It is the cicada in the tree, the frog in the water, the short song of the shepherd's flute, and the hidden ....... of the partnerIn short, childhood is carefree and happy.
Whenever I vividly recall the anecdotes of my childhood, my face is always flushed with a rosy glow. After all, the past swirled in my heart like the sound of flowing water, and once it burst out, it was so gushing .......
When I was 5 years old, my mother took me to my grandmother's house, my grandmother lived in the countryside, so there were many people there who rode horses from this village to that village, I was very envious, and I wanted to try riding a horse, but the horseback was too high, I couldn't go up, I was trying to find a way to go up, just to see the nuke potato and see grandma feeding the pig, I think the pig is small, easy to go up, I saw that grandma finished feeding the pig into the house, I went to the pig's nest, opened the door and went in and chose a pig to ride on and ran out, grandma saw it, I hurriedly ran out to call me, I saw my grandmother, and tried to make the pig stop, but she couldn't stop. The pig ran into the grandmother's vegetable garden, and the cucumbers and persimmons in it. They were all trampled off by pigs, and I was also scratched by the branches of fruit trees, and my belly was slow, and this time my grandmother could catch and guess the pig, and after my grandmother drove the pig into the nest, she said that I was too naughty to even dare to ride a pig.
Another time was when I was seven years old, when I first learned to ride a bike. I wasn't very good at riding at that time, so my mom and I rode our bikes to the square, where there was a lot of space. I was riding my bicycle there, and the faster I rode, and suddenly I saw an adult coming from the front on a bicycle, because I was riding too fast, I couldn't brake the car, and I was about to crash, and my mother was calling me, and I thought:
If I hit it, I'll get hurt too, and I'm not very good at riding, so what if I turn around and fall? "I don't know what to do anymore. That's when I suddenly remembered:
Jump out of the car, it's going to be fine" I jumped out of the car, I wasn't hurt, but my car crashed into the guy.
Whenever I recall this, I always "giggle", laughing so sweetly, so brightly. It's as if all the haunting memories of the past have come back to life. I continue to think about the poetic years of my youth, the season of dreams.
I think that childhood is a tree without growth rings, which never grows old and never disappears.
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