Later, I went to primary school, and something happened that I will never forget. I failed in a math exam in the second grade of primary school. Only two or three of the more than fifty people in the class passed the mark that my mother warned me. Besides, I was only a few minutes away from the cordon, so I didn't care. As usual, I reported other people's scores first, and then took out my paper for my mother to sign. To my surprise, my mother's face lost her usual kindness and her eyes burned like fire. I cried with tears in my eyes, defending myself while crying, emphasizing again. But she only threw me one sentence: why can't someone pass you? How many people have you seen walking backwards? Look ahead and go faster and further. From then on, I understood that if you want to make progress, you have to look forward. I pulled back from the cliff, and my mother's love is as important as a rope.
Sometimes, I am also ignorant. I will argue with my mother angrily and even make some unreasonable demands when I see what high-end cars and appliances are in other people's homes and what brand-name clothes other students wear. At that time, I always said to my mother, "if you had a lot of money, I wouldn't have to study so hard." I can eat whatever I want and come whenever I want. " My mother not only doesn't care about me, but also always teaches me patiently. Happiness needs to be explored and pursued by our own efforts. Her tolerance infected me and made me understand that a happy life was created by myself. Motherly love is like a rope, acting as the horizon in the distant horizon, showing me dazzling light and hope.
My mother's love is kind and strict. Many times my classmates invited me to play together, but my mother always worried about me. But after all, I am so old, and the sacred rope in my heart has suddenly become a tool to bind me. Last time, I persuaded my mother to let me go out to play with some classmates, but I had to go home before five o'clock. Happy times are always fleeting. I looked at my watch and went straight home. Suddenly I found that the figure under the street lamp was my mother. I look down at my watch from time to time, and then tiptoe to the intersection for fear of missing me. This time, I lost my patience, but there was a heat flow in my heart, and tears almost jumped out of my eyes. The rope of maternal love is not a tool to bind me, but to bind my mother and me more tightly.
I have never enjoyed vigorous maternal love, but this ordinary love makes me feel deeper. A mother's love is like a rope, with me at one end and my mother at the other.
Instructor: Li Liping