Selected essays on childhood: Part I: Dancing a wonderful childhood is a painting with our colorful life in it; Childhood is a song, which contains our happiness and happiness; Childhood is a dream, which contains our imagination and longing. Childhood is a beach, and I am here? The beach? Looking for the most beautiful shells in the world. In my memory, countless interesting things happened when I was young. Come and listen if you are interested!
Every time I see dancers dancing passionately on TV, I feel a strange excitement in my heart, just like I am dancing, thinking: Dance, what a wonderful thing!
Finally, I can't restrain my desire for dancing. I secretly ran to the nearby dance studio from home, sat there quietly watching, kept reciting the movements, and went home to practice by myself. Once I watched too much, my body seemed to be under control. I couldn't help jumping up and bumped into many students who danced seriously. I danced with relish! This scene was embarrassing, but the teacher who taught dance couldn't help laughing and told me to stop and point out my mistakes. What a good teacher! At that moment, I really fell in love with dancing! By chance, I can finally study there. I was so excited that I stayed up all night. Days passed like a few years, and finally it was time for my first dance class. I immediately rushed to the dance studio like an arrow, becoming? The most active person?
After a class, I realized that it is not easy to practice dancing, and I have to learn to endure hardships. But I have overcome it with my teeth. It is not easy! Time flies like an hourglass in a blink of an eye, and my dance is level 8. Every time I recall the past, I will smile, because I have an inseparable relationship with dance. We meet, advance and grow together, which adds colorful colors to my childhood and makes my childhood wonderful because of dancing!
Selected Works of Beautiful Prose of Childhood Part II: Dreamy childhood dreams are like colorful flowers in the sky, and childhood years are like sweet songs in my heart.
? How time flies! How time flies? Gradually, I grew up and my childhood passed away quietly.
Now I can dress up. Whenever I see those daily necessities such as hand cream and moisturizing lotion, I can't help but think of that interesting childhood story that impressed me deeply.
When I was four years old, my mother took me to my sister's house to play. Mother and sister talked enthusiastically. I was bored alone, so I went straight to my sister's room to play.
I picked up a bottle on my sister's desk. It is written in English, and I can't understand it. But I saw my sister washing her face with a pink bottle. The bottle was transparent. The neighbor's sister washes her hair in a blue bottle, which is also transparent. ? By the way, this thing can wash your face as well as your hair! ? I took this thing to the bathroom, took a basin of water, squeezed a little from the bottle and put it on my face. Rubbing, I suddenly felt the skin on my face wrinkled, and it was even tighter. I tried to open my mouth, and my skin was so tight that it was difficult to open my mouth.
I think this may be a normal reaction, nothing. So, I washed my hair again, washed and washed, and my hair stuck. I dug my face and dropped something the same color as my skin. I was so scared that I ran out of the bathroom and shouted: Shampoo has expired and my face has pimples. ? When my mother heard the news, she asked me, What's wrong with you? What happened? I held up the bottle and said that as soon as I put it on, my hair stuck and the skin on my face fell off. ? My mother and sister looked at me in a panic and took a look at the bottle. They all laughed in unison. I am like a monk Zhang Er, holding my head and crying: What are you laughing at? What is this thing? This is a mask. ? Say that finish, they laughed again!
Childhood is so carefree and innocent, and childhood is so colorful and picturesque.
Selected essays on childhood Part III: Childhood in the countryside. It is inconvenient to travel on snowy days, and I am bored. I searched all the bookshelves, and the author's homesickness reminded me of my rural childhood.
Childhood, the days with grandparents are quiet and leisurely, and the pace of time is very slow. The ground in the yard was slippery by us, and the fire in the stove shone brightly on the wall. Under the eaves, several blue bricks were washed apart by the eaves water. Several thin watermelon seedlings have grown in the sunken soil.
In front of the door, that tall old elm tree was repaired by grandpa with only thin branches. Spring is coming, and thick elm money is born on the branches, making various ostentatious gestures in the warm spring breeze. Standing in the narrow alley, you can see the high dam behind the village and the willow branches swaying in the wind at the top of the dam.
The jujube trees in the yard have long been looking forward to the arrival of summer. Jujube smiles in the washing of summer rain, and Shimada Hanzo is among the leaves, so shy!
In the autumn wind, a bunch of sorghum in the corner is bent like a bow, and the green stems are full of sweet juice. The reeds in the gully behind the village pulled out white spikes, and the white reeds were light and elegant. The fields are golden, the bulging pods, the naive old corn and the drooping branches of jujube trees are all filled with the joy of harvest.
There is a sweet potato field in the west of the village, and the removed sweet potato vines are thrown on the ground. After autumn, the idle uncles always rummaged through the sweet potato fields, looking for unexpected gains.
The only brick house in the village is the primary school hall in the village. After beginning of winter, this reading glasses with a history of more than 500 years magically lit a fire in the middle of the school overnight. In the warm room, a group of children who are not sensible are listening to the teacher telling stories. People's Republic of China (PRC)?