It's snowing and it's cold. When I ride a bike, I always shrink my hands into my
sleeves, and wrap my handle around my handlebars. I also bought gloves at home,
but I was too lazy to wear them. I used to wear gloves while riding, and those
were all woven by my mother. When I was in the second and third grades of
elementary school, my mother liked knitting sweaters, trousers, scarves,
scarves, gloves and the like during farming. My mother likes scarves and
scarves, my father likes sweaters, and my favorite is gloves. Of course, my
mother also knits sweaters for me. The patterned sweater I am wearing now is
made by my mother. I remember that the gloves my mother knitted at first were
not very good-looking, the style was simple, and the colors were monotonous.
However, I feel very warm and dirty, and it is suitable for me to play with my
friends. Mother is very good at learning. As long as she sees the sweaters and
gloves worn by others, she will look at them and ask questions carefully. Mother
is smart, sensible, and learns fast. Later, the glove style I knitted was much
more beautiful, and there were also patterns such as small flowers and puppies.
This makes me like my mother's gloves even more. My mother knits gloves for me
and never measures my hands; knits sweaters for me and never measures my waist.
But the knitted gloves are fitting, and the knitted sweater is fitting. In the
past, I often saw one of my mother's movements when weaving clothes: weaving for
a while, holding it in front of you, looking at it for a while, and then
weaving. I don't know if this is the reason why my mother can weave out fit
clothes without measuring. In the past two years, my mother has become unwieldy
because of too much housework. But I can still remember her expression when
weaving, especially when a piece of clothing is woven
Marlboro Red, and a smile will
appear on my face from time to time. I want to come now, she might not help
laughing when she imagined me or my dad wearing or wearing it. My mother's eyes
were particularly focused when she was weaving clothes, and she saw the two
needles that were one foot long. They were worn and worn, and nothing else.
Sitting on the side, I sometimes dazzled. Now think about the mother who was
really an artist at that time. What did she woven for me and my dad not art?
Since I saw my mother knitting things, I felt itchy and wanted to learn. One
day, when my mother knits gloves, I will sit next to it and take advantage of
it. I said to my mother: "Mom, I want to give it a try too." Then he took the
needle in her hand. My mother's face sank: "Go, how can a boy learn? While
playing!" Looking at her mother's disgusted eyes and gloomy face, I had to run
away in vain
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Cigarettes. Since then, I never thought of learning anything to weave. In
elementary school, in winter, I would wear my mother's gloves to ride a bike to
school
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I arrived in the class, I often saw several classmates throwing their schoolbags
on the table as soon as they entered the class. They stretched out their hands
frozen like red shrimp and prawns. I will proudly stretch out the gloved gloves
with beautifully patterned hands, and slowly stretch out a lazy waist, both
hands draw a "heart" shape in the air. At that time, I did n��t mention how
proud I was. Before, my mother wore a lot of pairs of gloves, big and small, and
there were one pair left last year. Unfortunately, this summer was bitten by
rats. Now I would rather use the sleeves to wrap the handlebars than wearing the
gloves I bought. I always feel that they are not good.
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