3月的一天,我和儿子在温暖的春光里散步。暖暖的阳光,清新的空气,在我的大手中牵着他温暖而柔软的小手。看着他稚嫩的面庞,听着他咿咿呀呀的话语,我一边美美地应答着,一边暗自琢磨:再过几年,他就不再愿意和妈妈手牵手散步了,他会有自己的朋友; One day in March, my son and I walked in the warm spring. Warm sunshine, fresh air, in my big hand holding his warm and soft little hand. Looking at his innocent face and listening to his sobbing words, I replied gracefully and gropingly: In a few years he was no longer willing to walk hand in hand with his mother, and he would have his own friend ;