Today is the Mid-Autumn Festival. My daughter is studying abroad, begging to miss one of her poems.

1.

The little finger is tender and hairy, her eyes are narrowed, and her lips don't smile;

Crying when you can't speak, and crying when you are pregnant.

Crying in the middle of the night is wet, and loving mothers are even dirtier;

Chen Ming whispered endlessly, and the loving father put on his clothes and went to bed.

When I first heard the voice calling my parents, my parents and I were extremely happy.

I hope my daughter will live happily in Mo You.