My father is an ordinary man, but I also think he is a great man. His slightly fat figure, once black hair has more white silk. The once straight waist pole has gradually bent. The once clean face was covered with dust. Father's love has never gone through since childhood. But many times I feel that my father doesn't love me at all.

My grades have always been among the best. Every time I run home with a certificate of honor, my father always smiles and touches my head and says, "Not bad!" " "Mother looked at our father and daughter with gentle eyes and prepared delicious meals.

Since the fourth grade, my grades have gradually declined. Father didn't say anything, but began to sit on the sofa, smoking one cigarette after another.

In a blink of an eye, the fifth grade arrived. Father began to be strict with me. Whenever I sit in front of the computer, he will say sternly, "Have you finished your homework? Just play! " I can only complain silently in my heart, and then express my dissatisfaction and protest with actions.

Unconsciously, I went to live in a junior high school. My father also lost weight because of his work. My mother has no job, and my grandmother is at home. The whole family depends on their father. He also wants to make his family better, so he works hard and doesn't go home much. I don't talk to him much, and these reasons make our conversation pitiful. I began to treat him coldly, and our father and daughter have changed a lot.

Another day, I played computer at home. Father called, "I am very concerned about your study. Don't just play. " I was just perfunctory, thinking to myself: it's not just lip service. Continue to "work hard."

The first-grade parent-teacher conference has finally arrived, this time it's not mom, it's dad. It is the first time that he has never attended my parent-teacher conference since he was a child. Although I don't attend the parent-teacher conference, I still care about me. Everyone in our class made beautiful cards with words for their parents. My classmates' books are all on the table. I put mine in the drawer. When I came home at night, my father asked me, "Everyone in your class has a card for their parents. What about yours? " My answer is in my schoolbag. Father asked me to bring it. I don't want to. At my mother's urging, I still gave it to my father. After reading it, he smiled happily, like a child. Are you happy that I have grown up? Another Sunday afternoon, my father sent me to school. Looking at his back, I feel inexplicable guilt. Looking at the sky overhead, it is obvious that my father has been supporting me. Father loves silence, so I won't complain any more.

E Wang Zhi answers for you, hoping to help you!