Nanny Mengmeng talks about

Are you dreaming about your mother?

Mom is the person who cares about us the most in the world, an angel of wisdom and kindness, an omnipotent existence, accompanying us through countless Warm and beautiful time.

Imagine the scene when I was a child, my mother frowning at me who was pouting and refusing to eat. In the end, she could only shake her head, carefully comparing the recipes while hurriedly dealing with pots and pans. I scooped up a small spoonful of porridge and blew it gently, and the milky white nectar caused ripples of happiness.

My mother must have used all her love to cook such thick, cotton-flavored porridge! During the process of cooking the porridge, she must have looked at the porridge pot with her loving eyes. , the corners of the mouth maintained an upward arc. The smooth and sticky fragrant porridge dances on the tip of the tongue, and my mother smiles in front of her eyes. Everything is just right.

I also tried cooking porridge myself. It was a winter, and my mother had a stomachache. She lay in bed with a pale face and did not think about food or tea. I felt so distressed that I walked into the kitchen to make a bowl of porridge for my mother.

Wash the rice, chop the lean meat, shred the radish, flatten the ginger, and prepare a handful of green onions. Although my mother could still recall the steps she used to make porridge, it was my first time cooking and I was still in a hurry.

It was cold and my fingertips were so painful that I could hardly hold the kitchen knife. I stared blankly at the big radish and didn’t know what to do. I almost cut my hand when cutting ginger. After struggling to recall and subjectively imagine, I was finally ready to start making porridge! I breathed a sigh of relief, lit the fire, and found that there was already a thin layer of sweat on the tip of my nose.

I couldn’t help but sigh: It’s not easy to have fireworks in this world! But my mother guarded the fireworks in the sky with a heart close to pity for more than ten years!” “Mom is a beauty, and the years have passed. Please don't hurt her!" Thinking of these words, I couldn't help but moisten the corners of my eyes, because I knew that no one could stop the passage of time.

The porridge in the pot finally waltzed happily, and I carefully scooped it out Take out a bowl, with curved eyebrows like my mother, and full of pity like her

Countless midnight dreams, the hot porridge in the white porcelain bowl is warm and sweet. The taste, and the busy figure -

Mom, she carefully arranged our time with the affection of a bowl of porridge.