The story of my mother and me, the fourth grade composition.

Thinking and writing: Mother is an indispensable member of each of us. She gives us life and nurtures us to grow. I believe there must be a little story between everyone and their mother that belongs to you both more or less? Express your deep love and gratitude to your mother by telling the story between yourself and your mother.

Next, I will write three essays on my mother and me for your reference!

Many students around me said, "My mother is like a river and my father is like a mountain." But when I was a child, I stubbornly thought that our family said backwards: "My father is like a river and my mother is like a mountain." As far as I can remember, when I was a child, my mother didn't seem to like laughing very much. She always calls me by my first name, which seems strange. When I was in trouble, she slapped me and never gave me a smile. Only when I knew what had happened did I realize that my mother was actually a river.

At that time, I was about seven years old, and I was in the final exam of senior one. In the morning, only my mother and I are at home. I don't want to talk to her. I quickly picked up my schoolbag and prepared to rush out. But I heard my mother's voice behind me: "Come back!" I slowly put down my schoolbag and walked slowly. "Sit down!" A mother's scolding. I sat down with tears in my eyes "Look at the exam questions. Look at you. You are so careless every time. I didn't understand my mother's hard work at that time. When I think of the injustice just now, my anger suddenly comes up. I stood up angrily and shouted, you only compare me with others! You didn't send me at all! " I saw my mother stunned for a while, and then a slap. I was in tears, and my mother didn't love me at all! She also hit me in the exam today! After a long time, a pair of rough hands stroked me. Is it my father? I accepted it gladly, but I threw myself into my mother's warm arms. Were those hands mom's just now? In my memory, my father's hands are rough. Every time I hold his hand, I can always feel the friction of the cocoon. Growing up, I have never held my mother's hand, and I have never felt that her hand is so rough. "It's okay. How can mom not love you? However, when my mother said this, she seemed to think of something. " Come on, baby! I'm gonna be late! "I leng for a while. Baby? Are you calling me? But before I could think about it, I was taken to school by my mother and felt the friction of cocoon along the way. In the evening, my father pulled me over: "Mom doesn't love you anymore, it's just …" At this moment, my mother came over and smiled at me. She smiled? From that day on, my mother changed and became fond of laughing.

Later, I heard from the teacher that my mother is like a river and my father is like a mountain. They all love us the same, but they express their love in different ways. Just different ways to express love? I'm too young to understand. But my mother is really a river in my heart.

The story of my mother and I Composition 2 The sky is extremely gloomy, like a big hole has been torn. Soon, the heavy rain was sprinkled on the earth with thunder. The wind is blowing violently in my face, and I gently close my smart eyes and only sigh that the weather is impermanent. I looked anxiously at the clock face in the classroom and prayed that the rain would pass quickly. But the sky seems to be against me, and the rain spilled into the windowsill, gently dripping on my fingertips and jumping off the white ground.

The crisp sound of class ended as usual, and there was no joy in the classroom. Everyone hung their heads and felt a little depressed, but the rain was more joyful, dancing gracefully on the gray earth and instantly melting into the gentle embrace of the earth. I watched other students walking home with umbrellas in succession, but I couldn't bear to look at Dahua Board, and my heart was a little relieved. If the weather was so bad, I would take an umbrella. I sighed softly, but suddenly I saw a gentle and familiar figure.

It's mom! She struggled in the rain with a light purple umbrella. The rain has soaked her thin clothes, her face is a little pale, and there are still some sweat on her forehead. Soon, she came up to me and said, "Look at you, you are too old to take an umbrella." My voice choked, and tears suddenly welled up in my eyes: "Mom!" I threw myself into her arms. She just held a light blue umbrella and sent me back to my warm home with endless love and heavy rain. Thank you, mom. I closed my eyes again, and my firm eyes were full of tears.

My story with my mother will never end. Same umbrella, same story. But my mother's love for me will never end.

When I was 37 years old, I came home from school at noon every day and was always the first to run to the kitchen. Looking at my mother's busy figure when cooking, I will jump into my mother's arms at once, and my mother will hug me and say, "Dear baby, come back from school, go and play there, and my mother will cook good food for you." I made my mother bend down and kiss her face, and then I ran out to play happily. Now that I think about it, maybe that kiss was a reward for my mother's hard work.

When I was nine years old, I went home from school at noon every day. I smelled food as soon as I entered the door. At this time, my mother was sorting out things in my room and said, "You should learn to do your own thing in the future. Look at your messy books. You have grown up. If you can't even do this little thing, it will make people laugh. " "I know, I know," I said, picking up a piece of meat and stuffing it into my mother's mouth. My mother smiled happily.

Now, I gradually understand my mother's love. On my mother's birthday, I bought a big birthday cake with the money I saved. When I walked slowly to my mother with a cake in my hand, she hugged me excitedly with tears in her eyes. I whispered in my mother's ear, "Happy birthday, mom!" " "Mother said emotionally," Nell really grew up. "At that moment, I suddenly understood that a mother also needs her daughter's love, and she also needs love in return, and the only person who can give her such happiness is me, a daughter who didn't understand maternal love earlier.

There are many stories about our mother and daughter. I believe these stories will grow with me, and the love between mother and daughter will be like a stream, never ending.