儿子六岁的时候,已经会写几个简单的汉字。一个周末,教他小提琴的老师演出去了,他不必回课,我们便带他到附近的河堤上烤红薯。拣木柴、点火,耐心地等待,几小时过去才吃到了香喷喷冒着热气的果实。儿子快乐极了。傍晚时分,落日挂在天边,像一枚甜甜的棒棒糖。我们说:“该回家了。”儿子极不情愿。 回家后,我忙着做家务,儿子却拿出纸和笔专心地在写着什么。他一会儿问“请”怎么写,一会儿 When I was six, my son had already written a few simple Chinese characters. One weekend, he was instructed to play the violin. He did not have to go back to class and we took him to the nearby embankment for roasted sweet potatoes. Picking firewood, ignition, wait patiently, a few hours before the arrival of the fragrant heat of the fruit. My son is very happy. In the late afternoon, the sun sets over the horizon like a sweet lollipop. We say: “It’s time to go home.” The son is reluctant. After I got home, I was busy with housework, but my son took out the paper and pen to concentrate on what he was writing. He asked “please” how to write for a moment