The blog I saw the other day introduced inflatable dolls. I saw thousands of people basically saying it was good, and then I tried to nail one. I got it today, and it really works.
See if there are any enemies around me, and then stick your head out carefully. My hand was just about to touch it when it shrank back timidly. I was very angry. It accidentally fell down, and with a bang, its shell was broken. I picked it up with my hand, and there were a few small things vaguely. I didn't know what it was, so I looked it up in the book. Oh! So those little things are its feet! That silver thread is a gland at the foot of a snail, called the foot gland, which secretes mucus. This mucus has a lubricating effect, which can reduce the friction between the snail's feet and the ground and help it crawl. So snails leave mucus everywhere they climb. When this mucus dries, it turns into a sparkling saliva line. Oh! I see! The book also wrote: Snails like to eat rotten plants, and after eating, they will eat fresh plants and young leaves, so I can conclude that snails are pests.
What can be done? At best, I just spread the paper on the table and threw a "signature" coldly. For my grades, my mother has to ponder over every signature for a while, and my eyes are bloodshot. And I promised my mother that I would do well in the exam next time, but these promises have never been fulfilled. Now, I really regret making those promises, which increased my mother's burden and deepened her hope for me. At the same time, all I got was more disappointment. At this moment, I thought of my mother lying in the hospital bed now. I didn't expect my mother to be like this. I would stop thinking a little and even dare not think about it, for fear that every fantasy would come true. At this time, how much I want to tell my mother confidently: "Mom, I won't let you down again!" " "In the eyes of parents, what is growth? I don't understand. In my eyes, growing up is nothing more than reaching the standard in height and doing some housework. I used to row a boat. Compared with my mother, I am not much shorter than her. I stand up straight. If my head and my mother's nose are bent, I can at least touch my mother's lips. But in spite of this, my mother always nags in my ear: "alas, I am a teenager and still look like a three-year-old child." "Really in my mother's eyes I haven't grown up? I really don't know what mom thinks.