Prose of my three dads

My father died, and I'm filming Mr. Kanto. In order not to affect the shooting, my family and I quietly sent the old man away without even saying hello to our closest friends. Since then, I often dream about my father. I think the reason is that I have always felt guilty about the rush when I saw him off.

But I wasn't like this when I was a kid. Once he beat me so hard that I almost took him as my stepfather. ...

That year, I was 1 1 years old. I wrestled with my classmates and accidentally crushed them into fractures. At that time, our family scrimped and saved more than two hundred dollars for two years. We were going to buy a sewing machine, but we took it to the classmate to see a doctor.

My dad was so distressed that he kicked me out of the street with a broom and a knot. This is a shame, so it seems that I am not very unreasonable. From that day on, I decided: My dad is definitely not a professional player!

Writing slogans was popular at that time, so I decided to write a slogan to criticize my father. I picked up a piece of chalk at school and found a quiet corner in an alley, ready to write with indignation. What I wanted to write at first was: Down with Fan Yecheng! On second thought, it was easy to expose the target, and I had a brainwave. I wrote on the wall: Down with my dad!

As always, my dad goes to work and leaves work, and he is indifferent to "anti-bidding". If one plan fails, I will consider the second plan.

There is a leather shoes factory not far from my home. There are many wooden shafts in the warehouse, which is a good place to carry out guerrilla warfare. I chose an evening, quietly hiding among those wooden poles, gloating in anticipation of the success of the "second revolution".

It was late autumn, and the late autumn in the northeast was already very cold. Soon I was shivering with cold, so I had to find a straw rope in the warehouse and tie it around my waist. It looked like a car owner driving a cart in the street. But although it is fully armed, the cold is still hard to resist. In order to know all about the war, I ran home quietly and looked into the house from the back window.

The room was empty, and I was the only one sitting on the kang to wipe my tears. My father, my brother and my sister are not in the room, so I think they went to see me. The situation seems ideal. In order to expand the "victory", I went back the same way.

In the dark, I walked alone on the sleeper under the railway. Suddenly, a black shadow came to me.

Maybe it's my dad! Thought of here, I want to run. The other party asked a word, and I stopped at once.

"Is it Xiao Wei?"

This is the voice of a real father. I hesitated and said, "Yes." My dad didn't say anything, but he cried. I grew up to 1 1 and never heard my father cry like this, so I cried, too. Strangely, when I cry, I feel a little warm in my heart: this man is not my stepfather, but my real father. ...

I have been on the Spring Festival Gala for several years in a row, and the characters I created are no longer simplified and symbolic, so I am very happy. At this moment, I received a sketch "Happy New Year" written by teacher He Qingkui. When I got the notebook, I found that the word "township head" was thin, and I tossed and turned a few lines, so I wanted to discuss with He Laoshi if I could win a few more words. At this time, my dad read the script and said, "Don't argue. There must be a reason why there are fewer words. Let's play the role well in rehearsal. "

Afraid I didn't understand, my dad told me about the fish sharing in their unit. He said there were more than a dozen people in their union. At the end of the year, the fish are not separated, which is easy to average and the fish are divided into sizes. At this time, he let others choose first. As a result, the remaining one is often the smallest one.

My dad said, "You make others feel comfortable first, and then you feel comfortable."

To tell the truth, I didn't quite understand what my father said at that time. Later, I experienced some things, read some books, and suddenly found that my father's words were a little bit of Laozi. ...

These are the three dads I once had: my stepmother, my father and my father. But now, there is nothing. It is a comfort to recall the past during the filming.