Mother's hand fourth grade composition 1 "There are two treasures in life, the hand and the brain. A brain without hands is about to be knocked down. Use your hands instead of your brain, and you can't eat enough ... "Whenever I hear this poem, I can't help but think of my mother's extremely ordinary hands.
Mom's hand is a magician. She can turn fresh vegetables and meat into all kinds of colorful delicacies: potato cakes, fresh meat jiaozi, sweet and sour pork ribs, which often make me reluctant to let go of chopsticks and make my stomach round. I think my mother's cooking should be better than that of a chef!
Mom's hands are also necessary to tidy the room. Once, I messed up my room again, so my mother asked me to compete with her to see who could clean it up quickly. When the timer started, I fumbled around and picked it up, but I didn't put it back in place for a long time. Mother sorts things first, and then quickly puts them in the right place. I see things in a blur, my mother seems to be an eight-handed fairy! Two minutes! Soon, right?
Mother's hand-knitted sweater is also world-class. Once, my mother bought a bunch of colorful wool and was going to knit me a sweater. I saw her hands flying quickly, deftly and skillfully, without pause. A few times I couldn't help trying to knit, but I either missed the needle or put on the wrong thread. My two monks are puzzled. How did my mother learn this skill?
Mother's hands are gentle. Whenever I am sick, my mother will gently touch me with her hands, give me medicine and water, and take care of me in every possible way. I feel much better at once, and my heart is very warm. Whenever I am frustrated and feel wronged, my mother will pat me on the shoulder, encourage me and give me courage and strength.
Mom's hands are strict, too. Whenever I lie down and play and don't write and practice the piano seriously, my mother will teach me first. If not, then she will pat her ass with her hand and it will hurt immediately. That feeling will never be forgotten!
However, no matter what, I still like my mother's hands, which have created a happy life for me now; It was these hands that taught me to be a man and do things; It's these hands that keep me warm. I love my mother's hard-working, smart and strict hands!
My mother's hands are not as smooth as mine, nor as strong as my father's, but they are full of warm breath everywhere.
It was a cold winter morning, and the north wind roared with unspeakable cold.
As usual, my mother took me to school first. On the way to school, the cool wind blew on my face, shivering with cold. My mother seems to have guessed my thoughts and immediately took off her clothes and put them on for me. Mom's frozen hands became dexterous when she put them on me. Although I feel cold at this moment, my heart is completely moved by my mother's actions, and a warm current rushes to my heart.
After school that day, there was a heavy snow in the sky. "ah! What a beautiful snow scene! I can have a snowball fight again! " I sang happily and ran to my mother outside the school gate. My mother took my tender little hand in her cold hand and said, "The snow is too thick, so we can only walk home." "Why, have you left?" My heart suddenly fell to a low point, and I felt that it was snowing and I was unhappy.
I looked at my mother with surprised eyes and said to her, "mom, do you have a fever?" It's five or six kilometers from here to home. " Mom didn't say anything.
On the way, I accidentally slipped. My mother wanted to hug me with both hands, but because my mother was too weak, she fell with me. My mother quickly asked me, "How, how? Where does it hurt? " Seeing my little hand cut a hole, my mother squatted down in distress and said, "Baby, come on up, mom will carry you." Mom saw that I didn't talk, so she picked me up and carried me on her back. I heard my mother's heavy breathing along the way, and my mother's sweat flowed in every road and street I passed.
When I got home, my mother poured mercuric chloride on a cotton swab, gently applied it to my wound and kept blowing it to me.
Today, I touched my mother's hand, clumsy but full of warm breath.
Mother's hands are not as dexterous as artists, as gentle as musicians and as meticulous as sculptors. Mom's hands are so ordinary.
Mom's fingers are very long, and her nails are full, smooth and pale pink. There are several cocoons on the palm of the right hand.
Mother's hands are industrious and warm. One afternoon last semester, it was a cold winter, the north wind roared and the goose feather was snowing heavily. After school, my mother picked me up by bike. I see my mother's hands are a little red with cold. Walking on the road, my mother slammed the wheels against the north wind. I heard my mother panting. Looking down, my mother's hands were blue with cold. I said to my mother with distress, "Let's walk home, it's too tired." Mother replied, "it's too slow to walk, and it's cold." I hope you go home early. " When I got home, my mother's hands were numb with cold. I looked at her hand and couldn't help crying. My mother touched my head with swollen and numb hands to comfort me: "It's okay, it will be like this in winter." I am both sad and moved by this.
In the dead of night, I can feel my mother touching my forehead with her warm hand and covering the quilt I pushed open. Mother's hand is warm sunshine, shining on my young heart.
Mom's hands are very dexterous. My mother's hands can knit sweaters, and she always knits sweaters for me evenly and quickly, which makes me warm to wear. Mom can cook, and the dishes are beautiful and delicious, which makes her mouth water. Mother can grow flowers, which are especially bright.
I like my mother's hands, and I like my mother better!
Mother's Hands I have a loving mother who has a pair of unique hands. I remember that ordinary thing clearly.
Since I was a child, I have a habit of letting my mother pat my leg before going to bed to relieve the fatigue of the day. Whenever my mother touches my leg, a gentle feeling will come into my mind. Her hands are so soft and smooth! However, after more than ten years of moving, my unprecedented feeling slowly appeared.
It's another bright moonlight night. Everything is so quiet and beautiful. My mother came to my bed and touched me again. I close my eyes and want to enjoy this comfortable moment. I saw my mother gently put her hand on my leg and beat it slowly and rhythmically when she went up and down, and my leg immediately dispersed the tension. After a while, my mother slowly put her hand on my leg again. She slowly slid her right hand to my calf, then from my calf to my thigh, and the round was over. Mother put a hand on my leg and rubbed it in the same direction. At the end of this round, I obviously felt something was wrong. Not only did it lose its usual comfort, but it brought some roughness. I'm not excited. Instead, I sat up and looked at my mother's hand carefully: there were some wrinkles on her white hand and her fingertips were obviously rough. I think, maybe years tortured my mother's hand, maybe I let my mother touch her leg and tortured her hand, maybe. ...
My mother's hand I grew up in the countryside, and my family was not rich. My parents have been paying their own sweat for my school.
My mother is doing embroidery far from home. She goes out early and comes back late every day. Every time I see her tired eyes, my heart hurts. So, I promised myself that I must study hard and honor my parents with good grades.
When I came home from school that day, I saw my mother lying in bed tired, with thick bandages on her hands. Usually, my mother doesn't go home until I fall asleep. Why today? ...
When I changed my mother's bandage, I saw the cracks on her hands, scarlet cracks, and she was still risking fresh blood. She has a pair of hands like dead branches and looks pale and weak. I can't imagine how my mother's thin hands embroidered so many patterns. Later, my sister told me that in order to embroider more works and earn more money, my mother accidentally scratched one of them on the table. Oh, my poor mother, who will do anything to make our life better? ...
From then on, I became the most serious student in our class every day. Later, in an exam, I finally rewarded my mother with the first grade in my class.
I still remember that night, I waited for my mother to come home. When I handed my report card to my mother, her hands kept shaking. Those hands that look particularly weak on weekdays look so strong today. Mother's tired face finally showed a smile. She stroked my cheek with rough hands and kept saying, good boy, good boy. ...
My mother is a loving mother, a filial mother and the best mother.
Mom, your hand is my motivation, and I will repay you with the best results.
Mom's Hands Fourth Grade Composition 6 Some people like Dad's rough hands; Some people like grandma's calloused hands; Some people like …, but I like mom's hands.
Mom's hands are very dexterous. Her fingers are soft, smooth and slender. A ball of wool in her hand will fly up and down with the sweater needle, which will make people see things in a blur. A few days later, a warm, beautiful and fit sweater was knitted and put on.
Mom's hands are still a pair of capable hands. She is our "super chef". Every day when I come home from work, my mother quickly puts on her apron, walks into the kitchen and turns on the tap. With the sound of water, she washed the dishes, and then there was the sound of "clang, clang, clang" cutting vegetables in the kitchen. Soon, round potatoes were cut into thin shreds, and green peppers were also cut into sections. Everything is ready, my mother put the pot on the shelf, opened the fire, poured the oil, and then there was a delicious smell, which made my mouth water. Soon, delicious dishes were put on the table, and our family ate with relish, and the family was happy.
Mom's hands are smarter. Whenever I have a problem, she helps me analyze it on paper, and soon the problem fails. Mom's hands are better than computers! I admire it.
I love my mother's hands, and I love my mother even more!
In my memory, my mother's hands are delicate and smooth, my father's hands are thick and powerful, and my hands are white and tender. I like my mother's hands best.
When I was a child, holding my mother's hungry hand was like holding happiness; Holding mother's hand is like holding a reliance; Hold mother's hand and grasp safety; Holding my mother's hand, I found warmth.
When I was in kindergarten, I went home without telling the kindergarten teacher. When my mother saw it, she not only blamed me, but also slapped my ass with her hand.
When I first entered primary school, I couldn't hold a pen or write, let alone study. Every time I am "among the best", I hold my little hand every day and teach me to write one by one. My mother's sweat every day is my sweat for four days.
In the second grade, my mother and I went out for an outing. My hand stuck out of the window involuntarily. Suddenly, a bus came to me, but my mother's hand protected my little hand. The bus crossed without hesitation, and made a deep cut on the back of my mother's hand, and blood gushed out. I told my mother to go to the hospital, but she wouldn't listen. She just said that it didn't hurt at all. "Until now, this scar can't recede for a long time.
My mother's hands are getting older every day, and they are not as delicate and smooth as before. If I could make one wish, I would choose to make my mother's hands as delicate and smooth as before.
Mother's hands have two hands, which bring me warmth in the cold winter; Hot summer brings me coolness; When I succeed, praise me; Will give me confidence when I fail. These hands are so important and familiar to me.
Mother's hands are smooth, delicate and shiny. Mother's fingers are slender, smooth, soft and elastic to the touch.
Mom's hands are hardworking. She can always tidy up a dirty and messy room.
Mom's hands are very dexterous. Every morning, she prepares colorful rubber bands and hairpins, and her flexible and slender fingers shuttle back and forth between my hair. Soon, just like magic, my hair will change into various hairstyles.
Mother's hands are cool. One hot summer night, there was a power failure at home. My mother fanned me with those hands and made me fall asleep soon, but my mother was too hot to sleep.
Mom's hands are warm. One day, I had a fever and my mother was very worried. After a while, she touched my hot forehead, asked me with concern and gave me medicine to drink. My mother's warm hands held my little hand, and I suddenly felt a warm current coming to my heart. My head seems to be less dizzy and I feel much better.
It is these warm hands that nurture me, love me and bring me health, happiness, warmth and happiness. I love these warm hands, and I love my mother even more!
I have seen too many hands of my mother, but I can't leave too many impressions. I only remember my mother's hand.
Mom's hands are hardworking. Her hands are never idle. My mother takes me to school and cooks breakfast for me in the morning. Breakfast includes: bread, eggs and milk. My mother puts books in my bag one by one. In the morning, I take my schoolbag to school by bike. When I got to school, I packed my water cup, put the skipping rope into my schoolbag and put it on my back. Make me lunch at noon.
Mom's hand is nagging, and her hand often reminds me. My mother wrote on my homework: Come on! So whenever I do my homework, I will never forget my mother's tips. Every time I carve my homework, my mother's tips are in my ear, when I can't write. My mother told me with a pencil in her hand, draw and draw. At least in this way, my mother left thousands of marks on her hands, day by day.
My mother's hands are warm. When I was doing my homework, my mother warmed me with her big hand because it was very cold that night. My cold hands make my hands warm like this. One night when my mother was sleeping, I told her that I was cold. Did my mother say it was cold? I said, yeah! Very, very cold. So my mother caught me with her warm big hand, and in this way, I slept warmly all night.
I love these hands because they give me a happy, happy and happy life.