An article entitled "Love in it"

As usual, I go to the Shuxiang Art Workshop to pick up the little guy at around 4 pm every Saturday. It's past four o'clock in the afternoon. If it were winter, the sun would have been near the western hills. But now, the sun is overhead, as light as a rock.

When we arrived at the painting workshop, many children left their seats early, one here and a group there, playing and chasing. I think that little guy must be one of them. He paints and doodles on letters, unlike some girls who sit there and carve like embroidery. My eyes searched among my playmates. Ah, no, where is he? Looking away again, I saw the little guy sitting there, burying his head and drawing carefully on the paper. Hey, what's up? The usual watercolor painting, the child will be fine in a moment, but it is so difficult to draw today. I walked softly, afraid to disturb him, so I picked a seat behind him and sat down quietly. Reaching out, I saw that the main body of the painting had been taken down and was being painted and decorated. I saw a fluttering tie, passing through the middle, with a vest on it. Bright flowers are blooming on the vest, full of spring scenery, like a bright childlike smile. The flowers are written in bold, and I silently recite them word by word, wishing-father-pro-festival-day-happiness. Oh, father. My heart is shocked, bless me. I am numb. I was stunned. My vacation? What holidays do I have? I didn't say a word, but I watched the little guy carefully change a color for fear of damaging his work. He didn't know that his father was watching him quietly from behind. It's noisy around. He's drawing. ...

The sun has set in the west, and the sun is no longer sultry. In the antique, dark streets, the time is very long, which seems a little warm. The little guy drew several parallel decorative diagonal lines on the hollow English letters with a black pen. After drawing all the hollow letters, he looked at the whole frame again and brushed it gently with his little hand covered with paint. Then plug in the pen, tidy up your things and get ready for class.

As soon as he turned around, he saw me and said with joy, "Dad, you're here."

I pretended not to see it and said, "I just arrived." Have you finished painting? Let me see what you drew. "

"I won't let you see it until tomorrow." The little guy closed the painting, raised his pure black face and said solemnly.

"Why? The important thing is. " I don't understand.

"The teacher said that tomorrow is Father's Day, and the teacher asked us to draw a picture for my father." There is joy and pride in children's eyes.

I understand everything. I can't say how grateful I am, thanks to the teacher's heart, and thanks to the teacher for letting father and son love each other. ...

"The other children have finished painting. Why do you draw so slowly? " I asked on purpose.

The little guy was speechless, and the teacher came over and explained, "I only drew a vest and tie on the blackboard this time, and the rest were created by the children themselves."

"Children are slow to respond to painting." I'm embarrassed to say it.

"Your child's painting has made rapid progress. He is giving this holiday gift to his father. He is very careful. " The teacher praised it beautifully.

Suddenly, my heart is rippling and my eyes are a little moist. ...

After school, the little guy took his schoolbag, got on my old bike, sat in the back seat of my car and hugged my waist. We drove slowly forward in the afterglow of the sunset. ...

Study hard and make progress every day.