一只小蜜蜂嗡嗡地飞着,一会儿落在君子兰上,一会又扑到头发上,一会又扑在刚擦过的玻璃上,吵得人心烦。我便狠命地将它按进君子兰花盆的土里。可不一会儿,土居然鼓了一个包儿,这包儿越鼓越大,小蜜蜂慢慢地钻出来,抖动着翅膀,抖落身上的细土,想飞起来,不知因为什么我又一次将它按进土里……这回蜜蜂该死了吧,可 A small bee stumbled on the fly and fell on the Clivia for a while, flitting on to the hair for a while, and flitting on the freshly rubbed glass for a while. I pressed it into the soil of the Clivia pot. But in a little while, the soil actually had a bag. The bigger the bag was, the bigger the drum was. The bee slowly drilled out, shaking its wings, shaking off the fine dirt on the body, and trying to fly. I didn’t know why I once again Press into the soil... This time, the bees are dying.