Childhood fun composition 300 words

Opening the small window of memory, I turned to the old house of memory, trying to find my childhood past. In a trance, I caught a glimpse of my father's long sword hidden for more than 50 years, and the valve of memory opened.

The young father loves martial arts. I don't know where he worshipped the "master" and learned some boxing skills. He got a sword from his master, made of blue iron. The body of the sword is about 60 cm long, and the hilt is engraved with patterns, much like the long sword in the swordsman's hand in costume drama.

After work, my father always likes to invite some like-minded friends to chat, drink and guess boxing at home. When he was in high spirits, they began to dance in the narrow room, which made the house very noisy. My mother always has endless housework and never cares about them, but I am guarding a box of picture books that I can never finish, hiding behind them and indulging in my book world.

"Your sister is too thin. Let her practice." One day, one of them suddenly noticed me.

"Sister, practice hard and won't be bullied by others in the future." Others began to lobby their fathers.

My father looked at me, nodded and said, "I want her to practice." If she looks at her dull brain, she may learn kung fu, and it will be her blessing in the future. "

The next day, my father woke me up early and asked me to run around the house twice. When I reluctantly ran back to him, he crouched down and let me stand like him. I cried to end and quit studying. My father has a bitter face. I don't know where to find a stick. When he threw it in front of me, I was too scared to move. I was so tired that I couldn't get up on the ground several times. My father is not sad. After tossing and turning for two hours, he said to me, "Let's call it a day and go back to dinner." & lt Women's goal in 2008, lively space, long classmates' feelings br> One afternoon a month later, my father took out his sword and let me have a try. I was not interested in it at all, so I grabbed it weakly and it was heavy! I threw it away without lifting my head, and my father said with distress, "Forget it, learn with a stick first, and don't break my sword." Then my father began to teach me movements, but my mind was firmly bound by those picture books. I follow my father's actions, while imagining the characters in the book, and often go back and forth several times. I have forgotten where to stretch my legs first, and then shrink my legs. Father shook his head more than once, chanting: stupid! I am afraid of my father's harshness and hate him in my heart.

In the evening, my father still refused to give up, called me over and said, "Please call me again." I took the stick in his hand, played by feeling and waved it. Suddenly, there was a muffled sound, glass was everywhere, and the light bulb above me exploded. It turned out that I knocked the stick there. I was too scared to look at my father until he flew into a rage. The world seems to be silent for a few seconds. I heard my father's thick breath trying to control something. He finally waved and whispered to me, "Let's go out and play …" When I ran away, I looked back and saw my father cleaning up the broken glass in frustration.

From then on, there was a joke among the neighbors. Sister Li is good at kung fu. She can break the light bulb with a wave of her hand. Since then, my father's dream of practicing martial arts has also been shattered with the bursting of the light bulb.

My gray childhood was not much fun. Only this true story reminds me of how warm and cordial it is now. I deeply regret that Xia passed me like this!