I remember when my mother taught me, she put a book on my knee and told me to sit on a small stool under my knee and read it. My mother taught me to read sentence by sentence when operating in her hand. The sound of reading is intertwined with the creaking sound and weaving sound. When I stopped working hard, she hit me a few times with a ruler, hit me, hugged me and cried, saying, "Son, how can I meet your father if you refuse to study at this time!" In the middle of the night, it was very cold. My mother sat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her feet, unbuttoned her clothes, warmed my back with her chest and accompanied me to read. I was tired and fell asleep in my mother's arms. After a while, my mother shook me and said, "wake up!" " "I opened my eyes and saw tears on my mother's face. I started crying, too. Have a rest and then ask me to read; I didn't sleep with me until the first cock crow.