Class, I went to the yard. Snow was still falling. Then poured out in my mind a question: "What flavor is it snow?" I decided to try it. So, I Yong Shounie a little snow on the mouth, feeling icy cold, no smell, no flowers, primary composition Mid-Autumn Festival, not as covered as roses have thorns. I want to: What little snow you cold? I warm them! I catch them and put hands warmed. Yeah! Not a second disappeared, leaving only a small drop of water beads. Where they go? Sure, and I hide and seek!
To school, everywhere is the white one, the snow is still one child to jump from the sky. First of the big brothers and sisters are braving the cold, braving heavy snow snow yet. Behind them there was a curved path, junior high school English composition, we walked convenient, small writing on the National Day is not smooth, but they must be tired, very hard.
Home school. I've made several small partner, the 60th anniversary of the English composition, went to the yard of snowmen, snowball fights. Hand froze red, do not care. Until my father told me to go home for dinner, I was reluctant to leave.
After dinner, I learned a while. Go to bed at nine o'clock, and soon fell asleep. In the dream I dreamed has had a heavy snowfall, the children again and I make a snowman, snowball fights, skiing ... & hellip, Mid-Autumn Festival for the text;, play can be happy!
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