When I was six years old, I sat on the cold balcony in winter, holding my chin in my hand, pouting, looking out of the window and complaining to myself: "Why is there no snow, even a little? Let me make a snowman!"

It was Sunday, and finally snowflakes were flying in the sky, but I was still unhappy. Who will accompany me downstairs to make a snowman? It's so cold outside that dad seldom has time today. My mother read my mind and said to my father, "Go downstairs with the girl and make a snowman!" " "I cast an expectant look, but I didn't expect my father to simply answer," Go downstairs! " "I jumped up with joy, revealing a row of white teeth.

My father and I tried our best to make eyes with dark eggplant, nose with carrots from Huang Cancan, mouth with fiery red pepper, and hat with upside-down red bucket-a lovely snowman was born. My father and I also took photos with the snowman as a souvenir. I seem to see the snowman smiling sweetly.

In this way, every winter of childhood is full of warmth.

When I grew up, I never thought about making a snowman again. But when I came home from school that day, my grandfather said to me, "Shall we make a snowman?" I thought to myself, grandpa is an old tracheitis. Can it be so cold outside? I was afraid that grandpa would have a relapse, so I faltered and said, "I haven't finished my homework yet."

In this way, I forgot to make a snowman, and I didn't expect grandpa to make a snowman for me. Going home at the weekend, I accidentally glanced at the balcony, and my eyes were wet-there was a lovely snowman smiling at me outside the window.

My winter is warm again.

Maybe they all wanted to make a snowman when they were young, or maybe they just wanted to make a snowman for me. But when I grow up, I will make a snowman for my children and my children's children, and it will also warm their winter.