There are about 200 words about fatherly love.

I like wheat, too I especially like to eat that kind of steamed dumplings, that is, when the wheat is half cooked.

I remember when I was a child, my friends and I would run in the wheat fields every May. Find someone in a sparsely populated corner and pick a lot of green ears of wheat by hand. Then, we will pick up some firewood in the open space, tie the ears of wheat to bamboo for barbecue, smell the particularly strong smell of wheat, sprinkle the salt stolen from home and barbecue for a while. After cooking, we wipe off the skin with our hands and stuff it into our mouths in large quantities. Although our faces and hands are covered with dust, we are still very happy. Roasted wheat is really delicious, which still makes me memorable, and a faint wheat fragrance is slowly rippling in my heart. ...

Now that I'm grown up, I won't "steal" wheat from the wheat field, but I still taste the delicious burnt wheat.

When my father came home from school last Friday afternoon, he was burning wheat in the yard. Father works in other places, leaving early and returning late. He is very tired and usually busy. But he cooked wheat for me in his busy schedule, and I was particularly moved. Father crouched down and wiped the sweat on his forehead. My father's silver hair shines like a bright moon in the firelight, which brings me light and contains his deep love for me. After a few coughs, the ears of wheat are finally ripe. After burning, my father put the wheat on the table and said, "Xiangxiang, the wheat planted in our field is ripe and baked for a long time." Eat while it's hot! " A fragrant smell of steamed dumplings comes to my nose, which is my favorite food since I was a child! Gently rubbing my skin with my hands, blowing with my mouth, tasting the delicious wheat, let me truly taste the true feelings and warmth of the world.

When chatting with my mother in the evening, my mother asked me if steamed dumplings was fragrant. I casually replied: "This is really delicious on earth, the best in the world. I still want to eat. "

Hearing this, my father, who was watching TV, stood up and said, "I'll pick some more in the field at noon tomorrow."

I quickly discouraged: "Don't go, it's so hot. Although there is no long summer yet, the temperature is not worse than summer. "

My father seems to have never heard of it. At noon the next day, he came back from the factory, rode his bike and went out in the hot sun. At one o'clock, my father came back, and he started baking wheat. He didn't sweat or drink water. Ripe, the room is full of the smell of wheat. ...

At this moment, looking at the tall image of my father, I deeply feel the deep fatherly love, which is turning into the fragrance of wheat ears, refreshing.

paternal love

A loving mother's arm is made of love. How can a child sleep there without sweetness? It is the warm spring breeze that opens the ice. It is gentle drizzle that caresses the green wasteland. It is my father who loves me like a mountain, which makes my composition unique.

Walk home with slow and heavy steps. Staring at the distressing composition book. At this time, dad came back after a hard day. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked at his father's aging face. Dad said kindly to me, "What's the matter, daughter?" I replied listlessly. . Look! It's time to write that composition that was puzzled by monk Zhang Er. Dad's expression slowly became serious, and then he said to me calmly, "Daughter, you don't understand the meaning of the composition. This is not a mission. This is a record to help you remember. " Dad said a lot of things earnestly, but I said disapprovingly, "What a record! What wonderful memories! It's not like I don't have a long head! " After listening to my words, my father turned from seriousness to anger, and from anger to anger. He said angrily, "You'll never write well!" He stared at my bloodshot eyes and saw not anger, but sadness. Dad looked at me silently, making me uneasy, "I was wrong"! So I decided to do my homework to comfort my father. I spent five hours writing revisions, from revision to revision, from revision to experience, and the composition was written in twists and turns. Dad smiled brightly, it was an expression of love, it was a comfort!

Father's love is not sunshine, but it shines on my heart; Father's love is not rain and dew, but it moistens my feelings; Father's love, that concern, I want to cherish. Flowers bloom and fall, love the world!

paternal love

I am a bird, my father's love is the sky, and I fly under his care. I am a small fish, and my father's love is the ocean. I am immersed in the warmth of my father's love.

My father is an ordinary teacher, but in my eyes he is the greatest father in the world.

I remember one winter, I wore a cotton-padded jacket to school, and I was shivering with cold. I rubbed my hands and regretted not listening to my mother. At this time, Wu Weiwei said: "Ma Fengqi, your father is here!" I walked out of the classroom and saw my father smiling and holding a cotton-padded jacket in his hand, saying, "Come on, put it on." I put on a cotton-padded jacket, which is warm and warmer in my heart. Father said, "Be careful in the future." I smiled and nodded hard. When I got home, my mother heard that I wore less cotton-padded jacket at school and scolded me. Just about to hit me, my dad came over with a smile and said, "Children are not sensible, forget it." I looked gratefully at my father, who educated me with tolerance.

Another time, I made a mistake outside and lied to my mother. Mom's criticism made me blush, and I shed tears of regret. When my father saw it, he quickly dried my tears, made sense to me, and said to my mother, "Beating and scolding children is not the best way of education, so be reasonable to them." After all, I am still a child. "Dad told me a lot of truth and persuaded me to admit my mistake.

I grew up day by day and learned to be grateful to my parents. I will pass a cup of hot tea when my parents are tired; After dinner, mom and dad have a rest, and I'll wash the dishes.

I have a good father who taught me what love is. I grew up in love, and there is a lamp of gratitude in my heart to illuminate my life!

father

Remember that day, you told me; A girl of 15 years old was buried in the ruins. The girl's father rescued the girl alone within 1 1 hour. The girl hugged her father tightly after being rescued. The first sentence is: "Dad, I will never quarrel with you again." It turned out that father and daughter had quarreled before the earthquake, so ...

After listening to this story, I was shocked, I was moved, and a feeling of gratitude came to me.

Please remember:

When I was one year old, you hugged me and told me stories. I smiled happily in my sleep to thank you.

When I was two years old, the first thing I said was "electric light". You are very excited. I thank you by saying "electric light" repeatedly.

When I was three years old, you held me, held me and taught me to walk. You let go of my little hand, looked at my faltering steps and smiled with relief. I repay you with practice again and again. Finally, I learned to walk.

When I was four years old, I was afraid to take medicine. That time, you hit me because you didn't take medicine, and your handprint was printed on my ass. I cried very sadly. You feel bad and bought me a Transformers. I thanked you and smiled happily, but I didn't talk to you for a long time.

When I was five years old, I went to a small class in kindergarten. You sent me to school. On the way, you said, "Be obedient and be United and friendly with the children." I repay you, and I am often praised by the teacher, saying that I am obedient.

When I was seven years old, I went to the first grade of primary school. You let me go to school by myself, let me study hard and make friends. You are afraid that I can't keep up, but I will review with me. I repay you. When reviewing, I always want to escape and play.

When I was eight years old, I got the certificate of "Learning Activist" on June 1st. You are very happy and encourage me to make persistent efforts.

……

Time flies, in a blink of an eye, I am fourteen years old and have entered the school gate of middle school. Look at you-a lot of money has climbed on your head.

But your love is still not old, your love is like a colorful halo, covering me. Give me strength and warmth silently.

Maybe sometimes, you are not my best friend; Sometimes, there may be differences and contradictions; Sometimes, I don't understand you or even like you. However, a father is a father, after all, it is your father.

Let's take a short time to pay tribute to this man named "Dad" and say "thank you" to him. Although sometimes I can't say it to my face, he has been with me, listening to my boasting, listening to my stories and listening to my sadness. ...

You are by my side, watching me grow up and learning to be strong and independent.

Father has always cared about me and protected me. Give me a sense of security that I can rely on. Father loves like a mountain, and his strength is like a mountain; Standing in obscurity like a mountain; Selfless dedication, silent support, strength is like a mountain. ...

Dad, I know, you also have troubles, you also have pressure, and you will be tired. So, I will try my best to understand you. Come on! Dad!

Father likes fragrance.

When it comes to love, the first thing that comes to mind is maternal love. Mother's kind smile, caring nagging and careful care always move us and make us unforgettable. Silent fatherly love is easy to be ignored. Because unlike maternal love, my father often leaves behind a hard-working back and a serious face. Beneath what we can see on this surface, there is something hidden in the dark, which is easy to be ignored and has a refreshing breath-love.

One day, a middle-aged man helped his elderly father go for a walk in the park. Birds are dancing in the park. The father pointed to a bird and asked, "What is this?" The middle-aged man replied, "It's a thrush." The father asked again, "What is this?" The middle-aged man replied, "Thrushcross." This is the father asking again: "What is this?" Middle-aged men think it may be that their father is old and his ears are not working well, so there is a saying called "Thrushcross." But endlessly, my father asked the same question again ... so repeatedly, for the first time 10, the middle-aged man got impatient and shouted loudly, "It's a thrush. Don't ask again! " The father is unusually calm and has no intention of being angry with his son at all. He said in a loving tone, "Thirty years ago, when you were four years old, I brought you here. He was very excited because of curiosity and kept asking' what is this?' Twenty-five times, and every time I patiently answered,' It's a thrush. Because I think you are young and curious! "At this time, my son jumped on his father and cried like a child.

In life, we often see the parting pictures of children leaving home to make a living on TV. Mother cries in a low voice, telling one sentence after another, while father always just says "well, it's time to go." So plain, who knows how much pain and love these words contain in this short sentence? He wanted to cry, but he didn't. His love bloomed in silence, smelling only a faint fragrance.

Father loves nothing.

When I was a child, I always thought that there was nothing greater than maternal love in the world. My mother can take me anywhere I want to go, buy my favorite food, and help me wipe my tears when I cry ... but I only personally feel that fatherly love is as great as maternal love. ...

When I was a child, my father always ran around in his career and rarely asked me. I used to envy other people's fathers, who could tutor children and give them all the material needs. I can only cry silently.

However, since my first day in junior high school, my father has been more concerned and more strict with me. He bought me a lot of review materials and studied in sync with me. He is both my classmate and my teacher. I help him with his English, and he helps me with my math. We learn from each other and improve each other. My father is like a different person, so he cares about me and loves me. For me, he accompanied me to study late into the night. For me, he waved to the computer; For me, he even withdrew from many parties ... Seeing my father's gray temples, my heart was crying.

In retrospect, I had too many misunderstandings about my father. Blame my father for not spending more time with me, not often helping me with my studies, and … too much, too much! At this moment, I knew I was wrong. It was not that my father didn't love me before, but that he gave me unknown and unobtrusive love. My father told me stories and taught me how to be a man. He loves me. Buy me a lot of toys, he loves me; In order to let me go to school, he rushed to his career and he loved me. When I fell, he encouraged me to stand up and become strong. He loves me ... now think about it, my father has paid too much love for me and this family.

At night, lying in bed, looking at the bright moonlight, thinking of my father's wrinkles, thinking of my father's white temples, tears could not help but flow down my eyes and wet my pillow again and again.

Dad, I love you, love your greatness, love your silence, you are my eternal pride!