Mother's hand fifth grade composition

Writing is the most familiar thing in real life or work and study. Writing is a narrative method to express a theme through words. What is the composition you have seen? The following is a fifth-grade composition from my mother. Welcome to learn from it. I hope it helps you.

Mother's hand 1 In my experience, I think my mother's hand is the most unforgettable in my life.

I remember that time, the teacher gave us an assignment entitled "Help my mother wash her hands". The requirement is: wash her hands first, and then write the process of helping her wash her hands in the composition.

I met my mother when I went home. After telling her something, my mother froze. Then, she reached out and waved and said, "No, no, no, no, I don't want you to wash your hands. I will wash it myself. " I said, "No, this is the homework assigned by the teacher. How to do it without washing? " Mom added, "Why don't you tell the teacher that you washed it?" But I don't like lying again and again. I have to help my mother wash her hands. My mother said nothing but listen to me.

I took a basin first, then a bar of soap, turned on the tap and put the water into the basin. Then my mother put her hand in the water. When I wanted my mother to put her hand into the basin, she was a little embarrassed, but she had to listen and put her hand into the water.

I wet my mother's hands first, and then I helped her wash them with soap. When I finished washing, I found that my mother's delicate hands were now rough. I hold this mother's hand, my nose is sour, and my tears are about to drop.

Ah, mom, how much you care about me in the past 13 years. I will never disappoint your expectations in the future!

Mother's Hand Composition 2 In my life, I always have a pair of "hands" around me, never asking for anything in return, just paying silently.

Once, I suddenly had a high fever, headache and upset stomach in the middle of the night. The books at home turned into little monsters, yelling at me. I even feel crazy. At this time, a pair of "hands" carried me to the bed, covered the quilt and prescribed some medicine for my fever. The next day, these "hands" took me to the hospital again, fed me and poured me water. In the evening, these "hands" cover me with a quilt and give me medicine. Although she is particularly hard, she never complains, never shouts tired and never stops. Finally, under the care of these "hands", I gradually got better.

Another time, when I was practicing my new bike, I often fell down and didn't learn to ride it for a long time. When I fell from the car, I was injured and lost a lot of blood. It was these "hands" that quickly pulled me up, carried me home, disinfected the wound with alcohol and put me at home. In the evening, these "hands" carry me to the chair and bring me food.

In fact, these hands are my mother's hands. She has been quietly paying and accompanying us to grow up. I must repay her in the future.

I have seen many hands of my mother, such as cattail leaf fan-like hands, slender hands, chubby hands and rough hands. But no matter what those people suffer, they can't compare with my mother's hand in my heart.

Mom's hands are hardworking. Because of doing housework for a long time, my mother's hands have become rough and not as delicate as before. One day, I saw my mother washing clothes. I want my mother to wash a lot of clothes. I couldn't bear it. When my mother wasn't looking, I put my hand into the basin to help her wash. At this time, the biting cold water froze my body, as if I were standing in the snow where the cold wind roared. I immediately drew my hand back. And it is such a water temperature that my mother finished washing clothes one by one. After washing, her hands were red with cold, and I was so distressed.

My mother's hands are warm. It was a cold rainy day. My mother sent me to school. I forgot to bring my umbrella. At this time, my mother gave me almost all my umbrellas, but my mother gave them to me in the rain. The rain hit my face drop by drop. My mother put her left hand in front of my face and held an umbrella in her right hand. Suddenly I felt extremely warm.

Mother's hands are full of love. One day, I was sick, and my mother touched my head with concern, fed me medicine and cooked, and supplemented my body. I ate the meal my mother cooked for me and felt a deep maternal love.

Mom, you brought me happiness. I love you!

When my mother's hands were young, my mother's hands were white and tender, and it was wonderful to touch me. With the growth of age, I think my mother's hand is simply a magical magician: sometimes it is a towel, sometimes it is a fan, sometimes it is a painkiller, and it is magical and changeable.

Mom's hand is a towel. Whenever I have conflicts and tears with other children, my mother will always stretch out her soft hand to wipe the tears from my face, gently touch my face, comfort me, stop my crying and erase the grievances in my heart. I accidentally fell down and got my clothes dirty. My mother's hands turned into rags to wipe the dust off my body and smooth out the wrinkles on my clothes, telling me to be careful next time.

My mother's hand is a fan. In the hot summer, whenever I can't sleep in the afternoon, my mother lies beside me and pats me gently. I felt very comfortable and cool, so I fell asleep slowly. There are many mosquitoes and flies in summer. When I was asleep, my mother sat by the bed and used her handle as a fan to drive away mosquitoes and flies.

Mom's hands are painkillers. Every time I feel pain when I fall, my mother quickly reaches out and pulls me up, rubbing her hand gently where I feel pain. Amazingly, where it was very painful, the pain gradually disappeared under the gentle rubbing of my mother.

Now I am in the fifth grade. When my mother's hand touches me again, I feel a little painful, and I can't find the feeling at that time, because my mother's hand has lost its previous luster and become very rough. I know, it's all for me. I grew up, but my mother's hands became rough. I don't want this.

I believe everyone will be surprised when my mother looks at the topic. When writing this topic, I have a burning yearning in my heart.

Mother, that familiar word appears in front of your eyes again, sacredly. My mother, dressed simply, doesn't look like the mother of a rich family, but in my heart, she is unparalleled.

Every morning, she runs out of the house in a hurry, but she hasn't forgotten her academic achievements. In the evening, she hurried home to cook and worked the night shift at seven o'clock in the evening. It happens every day. I want to cry at the thought of her hand. Mom's hand is displayed in my mind. Cooking, washing clothes and doing housework every day, a pair of wrinkled hands always oppress her. Those hands have been cut by needles and knives, but she still works and toils, and she suffers hard every day when moving goods.

If, let me make a wish, even if there is only one wish, I will be my mother's hand and help her work hard. I only wish my mother can live happily. If there is no mother, there is no me. What am I doing here? I'm here to study hard and win honor for my mother.

In the next life, I would like to be my mother's hand, so that she will no longer be tired!

Mom's hands are hardworking. Mom's hands are not that big, and her fingers are thin and long. However, mother's hands have to do a lot of things. There are wrinkles on them and the back of the hand is black. Mom will get up before dawn to make breakfast for me. Whenever my clothes are dirty, my mother will wash them clean. Mom still has to clean, cook and stir-fry I think mom is very hard.

Mother's hands are tough. During the exam, as soon as I got home, my mother asked me, "How was the exam?" But I didn't do well in the exam. I took out my test paper. When my mother saw it, she flew into a rage and slapped me in the hand. Later, my mother kept watching me review my lessons, and I must understand them.

Mother's hands are a pair of capable hands. Every time she sweeps the floor, she cleans quickly. When my mother painted, she finished painting with three strokes and two strokes. It was beautiful. I think mom's hands are very capable.

Mom has a lot of things to do. I think mom is very hard. Now I must do my best to help her relax.

Mother's hand When she came back from other places, she was most worried about her health.

I just finished my work, and when I heard the thunder, I couldn't help crying: "Your mother found you wild berries and broke your leg. Go and have a look! " Your mother still misses you! Go and have a look! "I didn't wait a moment, immediately take a taxi to Lao Dai.

When I got home, I saw my mother holding a water cup with trembling hands, her lips pale and a few drops of sweat on her forehead. I ran to hold her hand. I suddenly found that time passed so quickly. Blink of an eye, those tender hands turned into rough hands, as if destroyed by time, making people strong and brave.

Mom smiled and said, "Nothing, look! Wild berries! " Mother opened her hands. Although there are not many wild fruits, they have entrusted their mother's love. Wild fruit splashed on her hand, red and black blended together, depicting a mother's strong and tragic experience, which made people listen, without tears, and lamented her mother's strength and belief. Admirable.

From that day on, I took my mother to the city, looked after her every day, looked at her dark hands and often cried secretly. I also took her to see a doctor, but she didn't go. Finally, she found Alzheimer's disease, but she got lost looking for me. That's what she said about how to get me some wild berries.

Ah! Mom, her black hand! Ah! Mom is strong! Ah! Mother's love and care! Ah! Mom! My mother! Thank you for your care over the years! Thank you!