Fatherly love is like a cup of coffee. The first bite is bitter, but the more you eat, the sweeter it becomes. Father's love is like a piece of candy, hard on the outside, but really soft on the inside; Father's love is like a book, which is plain on the surface, but full of knowledge inside.
My father is strict, but he loves me deeply. I remember once, my uncle bought me a skateboard. At that time, I excitedly came to the square with my parents to practice skateboarding. I put one foot on the skateboard first, and the other foot stepped heavily on the ground, but I couldn't stand steadily. The less I skate, the more anxious I am. I don't want to learn, so I said to my parents, "Let's go home." Dad said loudly, "No, I haven't learned it yet." How should I go home? I can't give up halfway. "I thought to myself: Why not let my mother help me with my study? When I was about to carry out the plan, my father seemed to see what was on my mind and said to me, "You have to rely on yourself to learn everything, so that you can learn better and faster." If you rely too much, you can't learn well. "How about this? Let's have a competition and see who learns first, shall we? " I was too angry to say anything, and I said unhappily, "All right, let's compare." I thought to myself: you can learn if you don't believe it. You are much older.
Looking at dad's clumsy body, he kept sliding the disobedient skateboard. This is ridiculous. 1 of "dong" looks bad. Dad fell down. At this time, I saw my father unhurriedly get up from the ground, squatting on the ground and watching skateboarding, as if thinking and studying. After a while, my father stepped on the skateboard, holding the direction with one paw, swinging from side to side, and sliding hard with the other foot. "Look, I can skate." Dad shouted happily. I bowed my head in shame and thought my father could learn. What else can't I learn? Under the influence of my father's example, I finally learned.
Another time, I accidentally sprained my foot at school. My father was so distressed to see me limping that he helped me sit down and asked me with concern, "What's the matter?" After listening to my story, he quickly took out safflower oil from the medicine box, helped me rub the wound, blew the sore place with his mouth and said, "Hold on, it will hurt a little at first, but it won't hurt when the blood slowly dissipates." Under the "treatment" of my father, I gradually feel much better and my feet don't hurt. ...
Ah! Dad, I want to tell you that I love you too.