九岁那年,春天,跟母亲赶集。我看见地上摆放着的一盆盆鲜花,便闹着要母亲买一盆;缠磨半天,母亲才答应。我选了一盆黄百合。把它紧紧抱在怀里后,我便开始细细打量起来。修长的茎,绿油油的叶子,金灿灿的花瓣儿。几根胡须一样的花蕊上顶着一抹艳红,仿佛戴着一顶小红帽。我边走边数。数到最后一瓣时,我仰起脸,让母亲猜百合花有几朵花瓣儿。母亲却笑着说,看来这钱没白花。自从有了百合花,我就再也没给母亲要过玩具 Nine years old, spring, go with the mother set. I saw a pot of potted flowers on the floor, so busy to buy a pot for her mother; entangled for a long time, my mother agreed. I chose a pot of yellow lily. Hold it tightly in my arms, I began to look carefully. Slender stems, green leaves, golden petals. A few beard-like stamens on the same bright red, as if wearing a Little Red Riding Hood. I walk the edge of the number. Count the last one, I looked up, let the mother guess lilies have a few petals children. Mother smiled and said, it seems that this money wasted. Ever since I had lilies, I’ve never given toys to my mother