Where is my mom? The sound has already reached the ears before the person has arrived. My divine beast was out of the cage and moved from her bedroom to the living room where I was.
I have heard too many stories about other people’s children. I have long been immune to the spiritual chicken soup. I am calm and accept that I am just a mediocre mother, and my child is just one of the many mortals.
I am a free-range parent. When many parents are playing with chickens, children, chess, calligraphy and painting, I let my children find their own fun, watch the ants move and dandelions dance. When her classmates are traveling in various tutoring classes, I respect her own decision to study and use her limited time to eat, drink and have fun.
I am a mother without vision. I only know that one day you will have a happy day, so my child does not have lofty ideals. The best idea is to go home on weekends after going to college and eat braised pork and then act coquettishly with my mother.
I am a mediocre mother. I will chase stars with her, play and choose blind boxes, borrow her a lucky handshake when playing games, and have a love hug and get angry after reconciliation.
I have my own beauty, snow and moon, my child has her poems and distance, I can accompany her to grow up, and she can accompany me to live forever, which is also the dream of mediocre and ordinary people.
