Please ask the person you know best to write a composition.

The person I am most familiar with in this world is naturally my mother. She is always so strict in my eyes. When I was a naive child, I always thought that my mother didn't love me at all. I even wonder if my mother picked me up.

I remember when I was in kindergarten, I just learned to write some simple words, such as "big", "small", "more" and "less". I am willing to try my best to give my mother a little comfort after a day's work, even a faint smile. Because in my impression, my mother's smile is so sweet; But it is so rare, as sweet and rare as rain in the Sahara desert.

So I practiced calligraphy in the yard. Sweat dripped from my head and flowed into my body along my neck, as if hundreds of bugs were crawling again, but I didn't dare to neglect it, for fear that my mother would frown when she came back to see my ugly writing. So I wiped and wrote on the ground, and I wrote and wiped. ...

Simple words have been written all afternoon, in which I want to lie on the sofa eating ice cream and watching TV; I want to play games with my friends in the shade! But I know I can't. If so, I won't see my mother's sweet smile. I restrained myself.

Finally, my mother came back, with thin sweat on her forehead, and the sour smell of sweat came to my nose. I looked at my mother's tired appearance, with a sour nose and tears in her eyes. Yes, my mother is too tired. She needs a shoulder to lean on when she is tired, but my father often travels. All I can do is study hard, leave my mother alone, help her share some housework ... thinking, "Did you write it?" My mother's disbelief interrupted my train of thought. "Yes ... it was ... I ... I wrote it." My stuttering answer turned red, like a ripe red apple. Mother's eyes showed a trace of relief, her mouth slowly rose, and the "stone" in her heart slowly fell, but before the "stone" fell to the end, her mother's brow wrinkled again. My heart was in my throat again, and sure enough, my mother began to scold me again: "Look at your word' Duo', as if there were bugs crawling on the ground!" I don't know how long your hands are. You write like chicken feet. Write, you continue to write for me, don't eat if you can't write well. "

I don't know how sad I am, just like riding a roller coaster, I suddenly rushed from the sky to the bottom. Tears of injustice kept falling like pearls with broken lines, and fell on the white shirt, and the clothes immediately bloomed with light blue flowers. A breeze blew and the wind chimes tinkled, just like my heart. So, I swore in anger that I would never eat again and go to hell. She said nothing, snorted a few times and walked past my room with a nonchalant expression. But I cried in the room, my eyes were swollen and tired, so I fell asleep on my desk, and two tears were faintly visible under the dim light. I vaguely saw my mother touching my hair and saying, "You are so stubborn. I asked you to write more times for your own good! " If you can't write well in the future, you will be laughed at ... "My tears poured out again.

The person I know best in this world is also my favorite and favorite person, and that is my mother.