When I was young, I was naughty.

When I was a child, there were stories that I could never say, and there was one thing that made me still remember it.

I remember that it was a rest day. My brother and I were at home. I was reading a book for experimentation. I saw one of the experimental articles: Sharpen the soap with a knife, then draw a few on the mirror, soap. The print will be as realistic as the crack. Seeing this, I thought of a prank, joking with my mom and dad, letting them relax and forget the tiredness of work. I told my brother about this great project, and he nodded and nodded.

Then we started to implement the project separately. The younger brother took a half of the soap. I took a knife. After a while, the soap was sharpened by me. We immediately started to act. I started to “paint” with soap in the mirror at home. Soon, the mirror was “divided” and I enjoyed our “masterpiece”. My brother and I ran into the room to watch TV.

After a while, the door slammed open, and it turned out that my mother came home from work. My brother and I hid in the room to observe the mother's every move. I saw my mother go to the bedroom to hang up as usual, then went into the bathroom to wash my hands. "Yeah!" Mom screamed and scared me and my brother. Mom ran into my room and asked: "How is the glass broken over there, are you doing it?" Looking at my mother's face turned from sunny to cloudy, I smiled and said, very innocent. "We have been watching TV, we haven't heard the broken glass." The younger brother quickly nodded and agreed. At this moment, Dad came home from work, and my mother was busy telling Dad about things. Dad frowned and walked around in front of the mirror. He looked at his look and knew that he was thinking. "Oh, I understand, you guys." Two little naughty, what a joke!" Listening to Dad's words, my mother is a second monk - I can't figure it out, saying, "What's the matter?" Dad said slowly: "If the mirror is really broken." Then the figure in the mirror is broken, not put together, and the figure in this mirror is complete, indicating that the mirror is not broken. The mirror is just a trace of soap stains painted by your baby son, causing the illusion of fragmentation. After listening to my father's explanation, my brother and I immediately admired my father's intelligence and talents. My mother will be suspiciously wiping a mirror with her hand and wiping off some soap. The broken place is immediately restored. "Ah, it's soap! Well, two little bad guys are fooling me." Mother puts her life on the way, catching us, we rushed away...

Looking back on the past, how beautiful it is, how evocative it is...

Fifth grade: happy 8888888