儿子上初三那年,个头已快一米七了,穿上件合体的衣服,小样儿倒也挺“酷”的。一天中午,儿子放学回来对我说:“语文老师在课堂上讲评了两篇作文,一篇是我的。”我随口问儿子:“另一篇作文也写得不错?”儿子眉飞色舞地说:“那个同学会写诗,我看过好几首。”我也来了兴趣,问儿子那个同学是男孩还是女孩。儿子吞吞吐吐地说是女孩,然后悄悄说:“江红想让你给看看诗。”晚上,儿子果 On the third day of his third year as a son, his head was nearly seven and a half meters long. He put on a fitting suit and was quite cool. One day at noon, my son came back from school and said to me: “The language teacher commented on two essays in class and one was mine.” I casually asked my son, “Is another essay well written?” “That classmate will write poetry and I’ve read a few of them.” I also became interested in asking my son whether the classmate was a boy or a girl. Somber son said to be a girl, and then quietly said: “Jiang Jiang wants you to see poetry.” At night, Son fruit