I grow my feet slowly. Mom, please let me go, hold my hand tightly and let me climb by myself. Please don't worry. No matter how muddy the land is, I will slowly climb to the depths of the forest.
Mom, please teach me patiently when you teach me to eat leaves. Don't think that I will learn everything soon. Your kindness will make me study patiently and patiently.
Mom, when you see me secretly playing with little ants when I should be studying; When you are angry that I dropped a big corn while jumping, please think about this sentence: I am just a little caterpillar.
I gradually became strong and fat. At that time, you would always nag, "Look how slim that dragonfly is and how tall that cockroach next door is." I will say impatiently, "I'm bored to death." Mom, please don't be angry. You must believe that your child is going his own way, and he will grow up slowly.
It's late autumn, and I have a big cocoon. Mom, I think that was your proudest time. You stand by the cocoon in the cold, expecting, expecting. ...
That kind of love, I can feel it even in my dream in a cocoon.
One day, I took off my cocoon and finally flew freely in the sky. But when you are old, you will never fly again, just like when I was a child, I looked up at you enviously in the sky. Maybe at this time, you are more gratified and lost. But don't worry, mom, I'll come back to you. At that time, mom, please call me bug!