Father loves me and I also like wheat. I especially like to eat the kind of roasted wheat, that is, the wheat is eaten when it is half-cooked.

I remember when I was a kid, my friends and I used to run in the wheat fields every May.

Find a sparsely populated nook and pick a lot of green wheat ears by hand.

Then, we picked up some firewood in the open space, tied the wheat ears to bamboos and grilled them. When we smelled a particularly strong aroma of wheat, we sprinkled the salt we stole from home and grilled for a while.

When it was cooked, we rubbed off the skin with our hands and stuffed it into our mouths.

Although our faces and hands were all covered with dust, we were still very happy.

The roasted wheat is so delicious. It still makes me have endless aftertaste. A faint fragrance of wheat slowly ripples in my heart... Now that I have grown up, I will no longer "steal" wheat in the wheat field.

But I still tasted the delicious shaomai.

When I got home from school last Friday afternoon, my father was burning wheat in the yard.

My father works out of town and leaves early and comes home late. He is very tired and usually very busy.

He took advantage of his busy schedule to cook wheat for me to eat, and I was particularly touched.

Father squatted half-crouched, wiping the sweat from his forehead while burning.

My father's silver hair shone in the firelight, like a bright moon, bringing light to me and containing his deep love for me.

Accompanied by a few coughs, the wheat ears were finally roasted.

After it was cooked, my father brought the wheat to the table and said, "Xiangxiang, the wheat grown in our field is ripe. It has just been roasted not long ago. Eat it while it's hot!" The fragrance of roasted wheat came to your nostrils, and this

But it’s the food I’ve loved since I was a kid!

Gently rub it with my hands to remove the skin, blow it with my mouth, and taste the delicious wheat, which allows me to truly taste the true love and warmth of the world.

When I was chatting with my mother in the evening, my mother asked me if the roasted wheat smells good. I replied casually: "This is really delicious, the best in the world. I want to eat it again." My father, who was watching TV at the side, heard this and stood up and said

: "I'll go to the fields to pick some tomorrow at noon." I quickly dissuaded him: "Don't go, it's so hot. Although it's not the beginning of summer yet, the temperature is not inferior to summer at all." My father seemed to have never heard it. The second time

I came back from the factory at noon, rode my bicycle, and went out under the scorching sun.

It was past one o'clock when my father came back. He didn't even wipe off his sweat or take a sip of water before he started roasting wheat.

When it is ripe, the house is filled with the fragrance of wheat... At this moment, looking at the tall image of my father, I deeply feel the deep father's love. Father's love is turning into the fragrance of wheat ears, which is refreshing.

The arms of a loving father and mother are made of love. How can the child not be sweet sleeping there?

What breaks the ice is the warm spring breeze.

It is the gentle drizzle that touches the green wilderness.

What solved the gap in my composition was my father who loved me like a mountain.

Walking home with slow and heavy steps.

His eyes were fixed on the distressing composition.

At this time, my father came back after a tiring day at work.

His eyes were bloodshot, looking at his father's aging face.

My father said to me kindly: "What's wrong, daughter?" I replied listlessly:.

.

Look!

It’s time to write the essay that Monk Zhanger couldn’t figure out again. Dad’s expression slowly became serious, and then he said to me calmly: “Daughter, you don’t understand the meaning of the essay. It is not an assignment, it is a kind of homework.

It’s just a record to help you remember. My father said a lot of things sincerely, but I said disapprovingly: “What record!

What memories!

It’s not like I don’t have a brain!

After hearing my words, my father turned from serious to angry, and from angry to angry. He said angrily: "You can never write well like this!"

"What he saw in his bloodshot eyes when he stared at me was not anger but sadness. Dad looked at me silently, which made me feel uneasy, "I was wrong"! So I made up my mind to finish my homework and come to

Comfort dad. I spent 5 hours from writing to revising, from revising to revising, and from revising to understanding. After many twists and turns, my dad smiled sincerely after reading it. It was an expression of love.

My heart is comforted! Father's love is not like sunshine, but it shines on my heart; Father's love is not like rain and dew, but it nourishes my feelings. I want to cherish the love of father's love when it blooms and falls all over the world!

A little bird, and my father's love is the sky, I fly in the care of my father's love. I am a little fish, and my father's love is the ocean, and I swim in the warmth of my father's love.

, but in my eyes, he is the greatest father in the world. I remember one winter, I was missing a cotton-padded jacket when I went to school, and I was shivering. I rubbed my hands and regretted not listening to my mother.

Said: "Ma Fengqi, your father is here!

"I walked out of the classroom and saw my father smiling, holding a cotton-padded jacket in his hand, and said, "Come on, put it on." I put on the cotton-padded jacket, and my body felt warm, and my heart felt even warmer. Dad said, "Be careful in the future.

"Ah". I smiled and nodded vigorously. When I got home, my mother heard that I missed wearing a cotton-padded jacket to school. She scolded me severely and was about to beat me. My father came over with a smile and said, "Little

The child is ignorant, forget it.

"I looked at my father gratefully. My father taught me tolerance.