Let my daughter be a sharp knife or a snail

  If you are not a high school student at home, you must understand the relationship between the sharp knife and the snail. In fact, I have only recently understood that the two can also “seek common ground while reserving differences and common development.”

  My daughter took the senior high school entrance examination this year, because the two-point difference became a school choice student, and spent 30,000 yuan to choose the school fee to enter the province’s only one-year high school. Later, I learned that there are 800 students in 12 classes in the first grade, and there are more than 200 people in the scores. The 120 students have not paid the money, and they have paid more than 400 students. Because it was spent on school choice, the child felt very guilty and suddenly silenced and listless.

  In fact, her daughter is talented and smart, and at least she did not sleep before zero in the first three years. Therefore, we have been comforting her and encouraging her to use the rare holiday of the third summer vacation to regain many hobbies that she gave up because of the senior high school entrance examination, such as volleyball, painting, guitar and so on. However, after only two days of embarrassment, her daughter had no intentions to play. It turned out that her classmates had already signed up for the placement counseling class.

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Come back, father

  Cui Cheng, a 15-year-old, has always been a sly man. This year’s high school entrance exam has just ended. He is having a stress-free holiday, but Dad has assigned him a new task – staying with his tutor for one morning, learning and chatting. Mr. Cui told reporters that the child is so big, and the words are still twisted and twisted. Like a girl, she used to name her female tutor. This time, he just found a male tutor for his son, hoping to bring him back to the boy. .

  Mr. Cui said that his work has been very busy. His son has been brought by his wife since he was a child. His wife likes girls. Sometimes he dresses Xiao Cuicheng as a girl. When he grows up, he becomes more and more quiet and timid. When he taught his son to learn to ride a bicycle, his son was so scared that he cried; he realized that the problem was serious.
  The father realized that his son needed men’s guidance, but he did not do enough. The son needed not a male tutor, but he himself, who needed him to personally participate in his son’s life and education. Dubson, a famous American psychologist, said: “Let a boy be with a suitable man, this boy will never go on the evil road.”

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Fog is my daughter

  The fog is my daughter, lying outside the window, at the street, under the streetlights. Fog is my daughter, deep, mysterious and difficult to understand. I don’t know how long this fog wanders, how far it is; I only know where in the depths of the fog, there must be traces of my daughter. The father of middle-aged mood is like me, sitting in the living room waiting for the daughter’s night return. She just went to her boyfriend’s date, but I seem to have a long time with her. Should I go to the fog to find her? Do you need to drive to pick her up? The question of indecision, the mist entangled my thoughts.

  When did I start to discover that my daughter became silent? When did I start to know that I was talking to her in this way? When she felt strongly that these problems existed, she was already a girl with long hair and a beautiful girl. Looking at the back of her playing the piano, I regret how many wonderful times have been thrown.

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When love is filled with this life

  He, Andre. Gauz, French philosopher, writer. She is his British wife, named Dorian. When the cleaning woman saw a thin piece of paper pinned with a pushpin on the door, she knew that the lingering love of the hero and the hero had fallen to the final curtain. The words on the note 寥寥: “Tell the police not to go upstairs.” This is a village called Voss. Separated from the road outside, it is the elegant building where they live. On the bed in the bedroom, they lay side by side. They took the medicine for a lifetime. That year, he was eighty-four, she was eighty-three. That day was September 22, 2007.

  There are some letters on the small table by the bed. In the letter, they screened their friends and rationally and realistically expected them to be cremated together and to be in one place. There is no need for more text here, because a year ago, he wrote a touching inscription and published it publicly to commemorate their marriage. The article is greatly appreciated and praised by readers, and it is more popular than any of his works that he has been thinking about and creating.

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The other side of the coin

  Recently, I was cleaning up at home and the children came to help me. While tweaking the cabinet, the son found a dark brown coin wrapped in a handkerchief. “Mom, can you give me this? I want to use it to play the cash register game,” he asked. I glanced at the coin and it immediately took me back to that era. “You can play all my other coins, but this doesn’t work:” I said meaningfully. “It’s very special. I won’t see the woman who gave me the coin anymore. The value of this coin is far greater than it. Its own currency.”

  In 1991, I spent five months in Niger. It was a desolate African country. The sandstorms were raging, and it was very hot and difficult. It was everywhere. The streets were constantly carrying their hands to you, shouting “cards.” More! Cardo!” (Cado is the pronunciation of the French “gift”, Niger was the law National Colony) Later, I went to work with a friend at a health clinic in neighboring Burkina Faso. “The environment in Burkina Faso is much better. Even the taste of coffee is better.” The locals assured us. After arriving at the destination, we started unloading our luggage.

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