从小到大,那双手都是温暖的……记得小时候的一个春天,爸爸亲手帮我做了一个风筝。我拉着风筝在草坪上跑呀,跑呀,风筝却怎么也飞不高,爸爸用那双温暖的手一次又一次地教我放风筝,跟着我在草坪里来回奔跑,尽情地沐浴着阳光。中午太阳高照时,风筝突然飘进云里,我急得哭了起来,爸爸安慰我:“风筝回家吃饭了,等一会儿吧。”我半信半疑,爸爸 From small to large, the hands are warm ... ... remember a child in a spring, my father personally helped me make a kite. I took the kite on the lawn, ran it, the kite did not fly high, my dad used my warm hands again and again to teach me to fly a kite, followed me to run back and forth in the lawn, soaking up the sun . When the sun shines at noon, the kite suddenly drifts into the clouds, and I am anxious to cry. My father comforts me: “Kite go home for dinner, wait a moment.”