Dad's handiwork

In the usual study, work and life, when it comes to composition, everyone is certainly familiar with it. Through composition, we can gather scattered thoughts together. What kind of composition can be called an excellent composition? The following is dad's handwritten composition, collected and sorted out for your reference, hoping to help friends in need.

My father's handwritten composition 1 There are five people in my family, among whom my father is the greatest! He propped up a clear sky for us with his own hands. In my mind, my father always goes to work early. When I was a child, I was still in a sweet dream, and I felt my father's big hand touching my head, and then quietly said to my mother, "I'm going to work." At school, my father still leaves earlier than me every day and then comes back very late. Dad is the hardest and his hands are warm. Dad seldom comes back early, and will cook the best meal for us in another way: sweet and sour pork ribs, braised fish, braised prawns and fresh duck soup.

Will appear on my dining table. This is to supplement my nutrition! If I can't eat my father's cooking for a week, I feel like I'm missing a lot of things! Dad's hand is "intentional". Dad's hand is powerful. When I am in trouble, my father will touch my head with his warm big hand. "Baby, let's think of a best plan." From time to time, it's like being input with infinite energy and suddenly opening. Dad's encouragement and comfort made me cheer up and forge ahead! My grades are very good, and my father will definitely give me a thumbs up! Then we clap our hands: make persistent efforts! Dad's hands are very dexterous. Every time after work, my father will teach me to fold a paper plane or a paper crane. This time is the warmest time in our family! Dad's skillful hands always make his work perfect, and nothing can beat him. Because he said: "There are no real problems in the world, as long as you really face them with your heart." Look, this is my father! A father with magical hands! I love you, Dad!

Dad's handwritten composition 2 got a lot of "support" from me when I was growing up. Mother's hand, delicate and soft, holds me and teaches me to walk; The teacher's hand, flexible and agile, led me and taught me a lot of knowledge.

The hands I want to introduce today are covered with wrinkles on the back and many calluses on the palm. Callus is yellow and thick, and it feels rough, like sandpaper. Every once in a while, it will crack, and one crack after another is shocking and uncomfortable. However, it is these hands that have been sheltering me from the wind and rain.

It was a summer evening, and suddenly it rained cats and dogs near the school. Raindrops fall like soybeans, as if they never stop. I don't have an umbrella, and the school is far from home. It seems that I can't rush home, so I have to wait at the guard. It's getting darker and darker, and I'm extremely anxious to see my classmates being picked up by my parents one after another.

Chen Yiheng!' The distant call woke me up in meditation. So my father is coming! I hurried out. Although my father had an umbrella in his hand, he was soaked to the skin and his clothes were dripping with water. Seeing me, my father quickly put an umbrella on my head and asked, "Are you cold?" ? ..... "I shook my head.

My father and I walked in the direction of home. On the way home, it rained harder and fell like a madman. Strong winds came at us with heavy rain. Dad ignored himself and moved the whole umbrella in front of me. When I looked up, my father's hand was so strong that the strong wind failed to make him back for half a minute. The hand holding the umbrella seems to be rougher than before, and the veins stand out on the back of the hand. The rain flowed into my heart along his hand, causing ripples. ...

My father's hands not only protect me from the wind and rain in rainy days, but also hold up an umbrella of love for me on the road of life and escort me.

Dad's Hands Composition 3 Dad has a pair of strong hands, and the horse's hands have helped me a lot!

One day in the second grade of primary school, when I got home, I threw my schoolbag on the sofa smartly and hurried downstairs to ride my bike. Father told me to stop living and follow me closely.

I put my bike away first, and then gave it a hard kick. "Hoo!" With a bang, the bike shot out like a mysterious arrow.

The car was on the road, and after the speed increased, I began to adjust the speed of the bike. After speeding up, I rode my bike and played all kinds of acrobatics in front of my father.

One hand, standing, one foot ... I kept changing my posture and was preparing to challenge a difficult action-hanging the gold hook upside down with one hand, just leaving the handle with one hand, and suddenly I found a stone not far ahead, and my heart thumped. Suddenly I panicked. I turned around in a panic, but I couldn't make it. When I hit a stone at high speed, I was ejected into the air like a cannonball and fell heavily. Because of fear, I only chose to close my eyes at the first time and let fate take its course.

After a moment of silence around me, I opened my eyes in a daze. I took a quick look. There is nothing serious except scratching your hands. All my clothes are dirty, which is actually nothing. As my eyes moved down, my left leg was covered with scarlet. "pain!" I immediately thought of the word. Because of fear, I twisted on the ground like a silver snake, tearing and shouting like a wounded wild bear!

Dad heard my miserable roar and rushed over, holding my waist in one hand and my feet in the other, picking me up from the lawn and running home. When I got home, my father used his big hand, pulled out a paper towel and gently wiped my tears, while holding an ice cube in the other hand to hold the wound on my left leg. After cleaning my mouth and ice compress, my father took out the potion and prepared to give me medicine. Seeing that the disinfectant was about to wipe the wound, I kept howling for fear of pain. In order to divert my attention and ease my nervous mood, my father actually talked to me.

"I heard that you really want a kitten?"

"Well," I replied while sobbing.

"Just now, I saw a lovely kitten below. Did you get a look at him? Yellow, wearing white shoes. "

"ah! Where is it ... why didn't I see it? "

"Didn't you see? Still mocking you! " Dad giggled and said, "well, when you can walk, I'll take you down to find it."

"We'll go down now! Otherwise the kitten will go home. "

"Well, all right," Dad continued after rubbing the medicine for the last time with his head down. "all right! Now the medicine is wiped! "

"Ah, wipe it! Why doesn't it hurt ... "I want to know.

"Who told you that rubbing medicine must hurt? But mom will be back soon, so you should change clothes quickly. The cat only goes home next time, and goes home when it is late. "

Staring at my father's hand holding disinfectant, I curiously pulled these hands to my eyes, turned them over, turned them over, and I used my hands to pick up my father's five fingers. These are a pair of big and thick hands, which hold up my home, and these powerful hands support me on the road of growth.

Dad's hand composition 4 Everyone's dad has a pair of hands, some are exquisite and tall, some are rough and abnormal ... and no matter what hands have one thing in common, they all make people feel warm.

When I was a child, I often took my father's hand and walked together in the silent wilderness. At that time, I felt that my father's hands were so warm. My father repeatedly held my young palm and said to me, "Baby, you should study hard until you grow up!" " Father, I can think of your blessing. "From now on, I will plant a small seed in my heart.

When I grew up, I left my parents for further study and came to the town to study independently. I still remember before I left, my father took my hand full of time scars and said, honey, when you arrive in the city, you don't feel like you are with us. You should study hard and have a bright future, but this is your own industry. I nodded hard: "Well! Calm down! " I believe I will study hard and I will repay you when I grow up. "Dad brought a broken leather bag from home and took out a piece of equipment wrapped in red cloth from the inside. I opened it, and there was about 300 yuan in it. Father said, "honey, this is the money I earned by moving bricks for others." You hide it and buy what you need when you see it in town. Don't be reluctant because of me. " "I shook my head with tears in my eyes, and then my father smiled. He stroked my collar with his frostbitten hand and said, "Baby, hurry up!" " Finally, after I hugged my father, I resolutely embarked on the road to town. ...

Father's hand is a cup of strong tea when he goes home, a warm warmth, a comfort when he fails, a resurrection of faith and a silent love. He was worried about us when we were in towards the distant. ...

My father is a doctor. He is not very tall, his skin is a little dark and his hair is a little curly. He usually shaves his beard clean and looks very energetic and young.

Dad is a surgeon and often has to operate on patients. There are many types of patients: burns, fractures, gallstones and so on. Once, he operated on a patient who was burned by fire. After his father put on the surgical cap, big mask and rubber gloves, he began the operation. The man's skin was burned. His father picked up a scalpel, gently peeled off the burned skin of the patient, and then divided another piece of his intact skin into several layers and transplanted it to the burned skin. I saw the scalpel flying in my father's dexterous hands, but his face was covered with huge sweat. An operation usually takes two or three hours. After the operation, the patient came out By this time, my father was exhausted.

Dad is often the surgeon, so he is very careful and dexterous. He made me many novel toys. He made a small basket out of walnut shells, a wreath out of Mao Mao straw and a whistle out of wicker. Among them, my favorite is the whistle. Dad broke a thick willow branch, then loosened the skin and the center, peeled off the skin at one end and pulled out the core at the center, so the willow branch became an empty shell. At this time, he cut both ends together, thinned one end with a knife, washed away the dust and blew it.

My father has a pair of dexterous hands, which relieved many patients' pains and made many toys for me, which brought me a lot of happiness. I just want to say to my father: Dad, I am proud to have a father like you, and I love you!

Father's Hand Composition 6 Among many hands, my deepest feeling is my father's hand.

My father is a computer worker. His hands are big, rough and strong, half as big as mine. There are cocoons on the middle finger and many lines on the palm.

Dad's hand is a bright light, guiding my direction.

When I was in the second grade, I did badly in the math exam once, with only more than 80 points. I thought you would definitely hit me with the palm of Tathagata's hand, so I took the initiative to take off my pants and prepare for "Red Seal Education". You came back and asked me what I was doing. I said, "I only got more than 80 points in the exam. Please hit me. " But you said, "Bring the newspaper quickly." Without saying anything, I lifted my pants and took out the paper. You seriously pointed to the wrong question, holding a thick pencil in your hand, drawing pictures and calculating formulas for me, and your palms sweated from time to time. Especially an application problem, you spent half an hour, the rice has been cooked into a crispy rice, but you pointed to the bowl and said, "Never mind, we will eat crispy rice today." I feel that studying is more important than eating.

Not long after, I got a hundred points in math. I am so happy that I really want to walk home one step at a time and tell my father the good news. I can walk faster. When I got home, I told my father about it. "Good son, last time you said 90 points 100 points, here we go again." I showed you that paper, and your mood changed from cloudy to sunny. You give a thumbs-up and say, "Keep going!" After lying down to rest, I still do this action from time to time, as if my hands will never get tired.

I remember when I was in the third grade, I took part in a competition and got average grades. I am very depressed. You patted me on the shoulder and said, "Never mind, we'll come again next time. I believe you. " At this time, my mood is also cheerful.

Dad, your hand is a compass, which showed me the way when I got lost. Your hand is a mountain, which gives me the desire to win. Dad, your hand is a story book that can never be read.

Dad's handwritten composition 7 It was the time of the flu epidemic in winter. ...

I dare to go to the hospital for infusion after school. In order to infuse as soon as possible, after school, I packed my schoolbag in a hurry, rode my bike and went straight to the hospital, even forgetting to bring my gloves.

On this day, the temperature seems to be much lower than usual. The water spilled by the roadside shop freezes as soon as it falls; When people talk or gasp, they will highlight white heat; Long icicles hung on the eaves along the street ... when I arrived at the hospital, my father was waiting for me there. I stopped my bike and walked into the infusion room with my father.

My bare hands were red with cold, so I put my hand on the thermos. My hands are too cold, and the small thermos looks like a drop in the bucket. My hand keeps turning on it, but my hand has not recovered from the cold.

At this moment, a pair of big hands grabbed my hand. It turned out that my father's hand was holding mine, and my hand was wrapped in his handbag. I saw more scars on my father's hands than before: I accidentally scratched this when I was repairing my bike; That is to help grandma install glass and scrape it. ...

Dad's hands are covered with traces left by years. His hands are warm, and a warm current flows into his heart along his hands. My cold and frozen hands woke up little by little under the warmth of my father's big hand and became boiling. My eyes are warm under the warmth of my father's hand. Scars, calluses, dad's hands are really much older.

My hand was warm, and the infusion needle stuck into the back of my hand. The water in the bottle dripped and bubbled drop by drop. Water flows down the infusion tube, into the back of my hand and into my heart. Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I looked at my hands, which blurred my vision.

My father is a prosecutor. He is tall, with big bright eyes embedded in his face and a pair of big mouths under his tall nose. He doesn't like chatting with others, and everyone says he is serious. In my eyes, my mother is a loving mother and my father is strict father. I'm really afraid of him!

But one day, my father's serious face broke into a rare smile.

It was a weekend afternoon and my father turned on the TV. What appeared on TV was a group of grandmothers wearing beautiful silk and dancing yangko with fans and ribbons. I think the youngest of them is over 60 years old. They are fat and thin, and the way they twist is really bad.

I said unhappily, "How boring it is to watch this!" Dad said, "Look at this!"

As he spoke, Dad picked up a folding fan, quickly opened it and said to his mother sitting on the sofa, "Madam, I'd like to borrow your handkerchief." Mother gave her handkerchief to her father in confusion. I saw my father holding a fan in his left hand and a handkerchief in his right hand, humming: "Deng Yongqiang, Deng Yongqiang, Deng Yongqiang, Deng Yongqiang, Deng Yongqiang ..."

I was amused by my father's funny appearance and smiled happily. He gave a twisted smile. Suddenly, the room was filled with laughter.

I can't help asking, "Dad, you are usually so serious. Why are you so funny today? "

Dad said, "I think you are very nervous about the entrance examination and are afraid of exhaustion." I want you to relax. " I laid my cards on the table. "

It turns out that my serious father is not only strict with me in my studies, but also very concerned about my physical and mental health. Dad's "this hand" is really well-meaning!

My father's hand composition 9 In my memory, my father's hand is warm and stern, and it is very powerful!

My father is a pilot and a captain, which makes me very proud. But my father often travels on business and doesn't know much about my thoughts, so sometimes he misunderstands me and criticizes me. Sometimes he hits me with his hand. I'm afraid of my father.

It was not until our family went to Zhangjiajie to play this summer vacation that my father's hand told me that his heart loved me. I remember that afternoon, my mother and grandmother were tired of playing and went back to the hotel to rest, while my father and I were full of energy. We both have a common hobby, that is, we like to go to places where no one is there to open up new scenery. We drilled through a pile of grass and stumbled to a stream. "Wow! What a clear stream, Dad! This is the first time I have seen such a clear stream! " I shouted excitedly, "And it's freezing!" I said loudly to my father. I didn't expect him to react faster. He has started washing his hands with the stream. While washing, he said, "Let's have a rest here. How about going up and looking for water later? " "Ok, no problem!" After a short rest, we began to explore. I walked with a smile all the way. Suddenly, I slipped and fell. I saw my father standing there, not helping me, but holding out a hand. I knew he was testing me, so I stood up in pain. "Well done, son!" Dad said in a kind voice, and then helped me to leave together. Back to the hotel room, my father praised me in front of my mother, saying that I was strong and grew up, and my heart was full of joy.

Yes, my father has been testing me, and I will do better. My father's hand is my best encouragement.

Dad's hand composition 10 Dad's hand is fat and thick, and it feels like being pricked by a needle when touching his face, which makes people say, "Ah! Ah! " Waiting for a sound as high as "500" decibels, which can be heard dozens of meters away. So every time my father's hand touches my part, it will make people feel uncomfortable and painful, so every time I see my father's hand, I will hide far away for fear that my father will "stab" my delicate skin!

Dad's hands are chubby, some are square, his face is red and a little black, and there is a long mark on his hand, but the mark is almost gone. Don't underestimate this mark, it has a deep connotation. I used to hide from my father's "Tiger Claw" every time. Now that my father comes to touch my face, I will definitely not hide again, but I will feel glorious and proud. I will let my father touch it enough! Because I know the source of the scar on my father's hand-

A few years ago, I was not as rich as I am now, but I was poor. I once heard my father, mother, grandfather and grandmother say that in the past, many relatives and friends were hungry and sick because they had nothing to eat. Because my father is lucky to live by the sea, he often goes to the sea to grab something to eat or sell it to others to make a living, and life is very tight. Once, my father caught something in the sea and saw a big fish. My mother wanted to catch me when she was pregnant with me. It is said that this rare wild fish has extremely high nutritional value, but when it was caught, the sky was overcast with lightning and thunder. My father was shocked for a while. Fish with water bounced off, slid off and jumped into the shallows. Dad swam quickly, more carefully, swooped down and caught the fish. But it also comes at a price. Maybe the fin was too sharp, and his big hand cut several holes, so he left a deep scar so far.

Now I still let my father touch my face. I no longer feel annoying and uncomfortable, but a feeling of caring for my family.

My father's hand composition 1 1 When I was a child, my father's big hand held my little hand. Now, he wants me to try to fly.

At that time, I just learned to walk. My father pulled me with his warm big hand and walked slowly in the bright moonlight under the focus of a beam of light.

I just learned to run at that time. My father held me in his powerful big hand and ran quickly on a green lawn, listening to the sound of the wind and running forward.

When I was five years old, my father took me to fly kites. In the city square, we play with sweet smiling faces. I held the kite tightly for fear that it might run away accidentally. Dad held my hand tightly as if afraid that I would run away. On one side of the square, we looked at the kite and smiled happily. The kite runs with us. The sunset glow is red and naughty, occupying the sky. Looking at us, they also grinned.

When I was 7 years old, my father was very playful and took me skating. I put on my skates, stumbled a few times and finally fell down. At this time, a pair of strong hands caught my sight and pulled me up. After several turns, I found it was my father's hand.

I was 1 1 years old that day. I play beautiful music on a moonlit night, and my hands get bigger. He can't hold it any longer. At the same time, I am also semi-free.

This year, I am in the fifth grade. In the last reflection of the sunset, I finished my homework and played basketball and table tennis with my father.

Yesterday, my father and I went to play table tennis hand in hand, and my father couldn't hold it at all. When I arrived, I played ball with him.

That time, my father and I went to fly kites again. I pulled the kite string, but my father didn't let go. He and I flew our dream kites and picked up childhood memories. Our smile is satisfied, our laughter is happy, and our pace is brisk.

I played cheerful piano music and my father looked at my dexterous fingers. We all remember kites in our childhood.

When I was young, my father took care of me. Now, my father still cares about me. I believe these hands will still care about me when I grow up.

Dad's handwriting 12 These hands are very helpful for my growth. Whenever I encounter a problem, these hands will seriously explain it to me, which makes me feel very inspired. Whenever I am in a bad mood, these hands will give me a hand shadow and make me smile. These hands are dad's hands.

Dad's hands are rough. The skin on the hand is almost like uneven bark, the veins on the back of the hand are suddenly violent, the lines on the palm are like knives, and the fingers are covered with calluses. Because these hands are nothing like those of middle-aged people, the rough calluses illustrate Cang Sang. My mother works in Shuanghe Oilfield, and my father does all the housework. Because of washing and cooking, the soft hands are getting rougher and rougher.

Dad's hand is a strong hand. I remember one Sunday, the liquefied gas at home burned out, and my father was going to change the gas tank. I volunteered: "Dad, let me go with you!" "The gas tank has been changed back. I have exhausted my strength, but the gas tank is like a boulder. I can't lift it. I saw my father roll up his sleeves and lift the handle of the gas tank with both hands. The gas tank was lifted up and went up more than 20 steps in one breath. The gas tank came to the door like an elevator. Dad's hands are really strong!

Dad's hand is a magic hand. Once, my father and I competed in an origami plane to see who could fold more in one minute. I saw my father's hands flying up and down, which dazzled me. A minute later, my father folded 20 paper planes, but I only folded 10, so I had to give up. Dad's hands are amazing. They are magic hands!

Dad's hands are a pair of rough hands, a pair of strong hands and a pair of magical hands; It is these hands that help me grow and will lead my life.

Dad's handwritten composition 13 Perhaps, some people appreciate the eloquence and impetuousness in the debate field, showing people's talent and wisdom; Perhaps, some people admire the "easy solution" in the examination room and admire its great wisdom; And I think a pair of skillful hands in life shows people's diligence and intelligence.

My father is of medium height, his short hair is stubborn and naturally curly, and his small eyes are shining with wisdom. They are good at discovering, plus his skillful hands. Wow! This is a perfect combination!

There are countless examples of dad's intelligence. I remember last summer, the door of my closet was broken and I often couldn't close it. When I close it, I often open it suddenly. The folded clothes and quilts were scattered all over the floor, which added a lot of trouble. One afternoon, my father stood in front of the wardrobe with a frown and thought for a long time. From time to time, he repeatedly pushed the wardrobe door with his hand. When he turned around and saw his grandfather's old bed, his eyes were full of joy and his mouth rose slightly, as if he had discovered a new continent.

So, on that sultry day, my father began to work hard again. A burst of "Click ... Ding Dong Ding Dong ... Dangdang ..." Just one afternoon, a brand-new wardrobe came into view. I was so surprised that I repeatedly shouted, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! " I paced in front of the closet with my mouth open enough to stuff a goose egg. But when I turned around and saw my father, my heart seemed to be in tears, which was very uncomfortable! Sweat dripped down my cheeks. No, more like rain. My clothes were soaked with sweat and changed color. My voice trembled. "Dad, you are so tired. Go and have a rest! " "Dad's answer was beyond my expectation." It's okay, son. Dad is not tired at all. "

How many times, when it was stormy, it was those skillful hands who sheltered me from the wind and rain; How many times, when I was lonely and helpless, it was those skillful hands that helped me and brought me tenderness; How many times, when I was successful and lost myself, it was those skillful hands that guided me forward and helped me get out of the mystery and find myself again. I love those skillful hands, and I love my father more.

Dad's handwritten composition 14 in the previous monthly exam, my grades were not very satisfactory. As soon as I got home, my father asked to see my test paper. After reading the examination paper, my father suggested going for a walk with me after dinner. I thought to myself, this is terrible. Dad must be trying to stop grandma from protecting me and scolding me outside.

Reluctantly, I had to follow because I was afraid of my father. The road we walked was desolate, and there were few pedestrians on the road, only a few cars that flew by occasionally. I walked in front, my heart thumped like a drum. I look back at my father from time to time and find that he seems to be thinking something. I can't escape anyway. I thought to myself, I had to look at the trees in the street bored. In winter, the leaves on the tree are lifeless and seem to tell my feelings.

At this moment, a cold wind blew, and I got a chill. Father's blurred eyes changed back. He took out his hand, which had been in his pocket, and came over and held mine tightly. Oh, my God, what kind of hands are these! Due to overwork, the palms were covered with calluses and tiny wounds. ...

He spoke first: "In fact, what makes Dad angry is not your ranking and score, but your attitude towards the exam. If you take the exam carefully, you won't be wrong in most questions. Dad doesn't want to hit you and scold you this time, because you have grown up and should be sensible. Continue to work hard next time! " Although I still hold those rough hands, I feel very warm in my heart!

On that day, I felt that I was holding not only my father's hand, but also warmth, trust and expectation. It was a mountain that my father loved!

Dad's hand composition 15 Dad's hands are not as white as mom's; Dad's hands are not as rough as grandma's; Dad's hand, just like I grew up. There are more and more footprints on my father's hands, which also makes my father's hands full of wrinkles. Aren't these hands the foundation of my life?

When I was a child, I was just a baby who was not sensible. I lay in bed crying and coquetry, screaming and rolling on the ground, but refused to sleep. My father always gently carried me to bed with his hands, carefully held my tender little feet with his hands, rubbed my feet, and put me to sleep with a happy smile on his face. At that time, my father's hands were a little black, smooth and comfortable from wrist to fingertip. I rubbed my feet for a long time, and gradually my father's hands changed. So, I stepped on his hand for the first time.

At this time, I went to kindergarten. His big hand pulled my fleshy little hand, not only pulling it, but also grasping it tightly for fear that his baby would be abducted. Dad's hands are shaking when he walks, and so are my little hands. Isn't that "big hands hold small hands, friends forever!" "However, I accidentally cut my father's hand. In this way, I stepped on my father's hand in kindergarten.

Before long, I became a little sister and had a lovely little brother. When I went out to play, my father held my brother. When I saw it, I was so anxious that I shook my hand: "I want to hug, I want to hug!" " "Dad had to hold his brother and carry me behind my back. Finally, my father was tired. My brother and I came down and saw my father's red hand. My brother and I stepped on my dad's third footprint.

How time flies! How much happened? We are growing up and our father is getting old. Now, his hands are dark, rough to the touch and wrinkled. These are the footprints that my brother and I stepped on, and they are also the footprints of our growth!