431 Chenchen I have practiced, but my hands are always out of control

When the little boy Pang Pang was not loved by his father and mother, he became as fat as a ball. After returning to his biological father, his eating level has risen by several levels.

Pang Pang also has a dog at home, but it is far from being as strong as Bai Bai and eats a lot. Pang Pang occasionally turns on the stove for it, but it just can't grow up. It is so thin and small that even Xia Xia, who weighs less than 20 kilograms, can't carry it.

Others thought that Pang Pang was guarding the food and didn't feed the dog enough.

Pang Pang was wronged.

Chenchen can eat, but maybe it's because he has been practicing martial arts with Dong Shengping for many years, he doesn't gain much weight, but he is taller than Dongdong, who is one year older than him, and he is more energetic than other children of the same age.

"Pangpang, what did you write? Didn't you practice calligraphy well during the summer vacation? Can the teacher understand it?"

Chenchen didn't come to class, but to play with his friends.

But after a summer vacation, Pangpang's handwriting was still so ugly, and he didn't even want to admit that he taught Pangpang to write.

Dongdong handed his notebook to Chenchen: "Chenchen, take a look at my writing. I listened to you and practiced hard."

Chenchen looked at Dongdong's handwriting and nodded with a condescending attitude: "Dongdong is very good. Pangpang, you should learn from Dongdong in the future."

On the first day of class, the little radishes could choose their own deskmates. Pangpang and Dongdong both wanted to sit at the same table with Chenchen.

But Chenchen said that he might only have one class in the first grade a week, so it would be better for them to sit at the same table.

So now Chenchen sat at the back of the classroom, with Dongdong and Pangpang in front of him, and the twins Dundun in front of him. Everyone habitually surrounded Chenchen, and the friends who had attended the Yuhong class together gathered together.

The other little carrots who had not attended the Yuhong class looked at them with envy. Which child in the base didn't want to be friends with Chenchen and touch Chenchen's majestic "mount"?

The one that Fu Zhengtu made of wood before was already enviable enough, and now this one is alive, moving and running. Everyone cried with envy when they saw it from a distance.

Pangpang frowned, looking very distressed: "Chenchen, I have practiced, but my hands are always out of control, and no matter how I write, it's always crooked."

Pangpang opened the homework book and pointed to the ugliest lines to show Chenchen:

“My dad held my hand and wrote these lines. I think they are uglier than what I wrote myself. So it’s not my problem but my dad’s.

Look, Chenchen, your dad is good-looking, and you are good-looking too. Your dad’s handwriting is beautiful, so your handwriting is also beautiful.”

Zuihong Pangpang concluded: “Look, don’t my dad and I look a lot like us? So, Chenchen, my handwriting may just be like this.”

Chenchen: “…………”

Dongdong particularly disagreed: “Nonsense, I just look better than my dad! My handwriting is also better than my dad’s!”

Pangpang: “Maybe you look like your mother, but unfortunately I don’t even have a mother.”

Dongdong: “…………”

Pangpang, you know how to make excuses.

Chenchen no longer wanted to talk to his friends: "Okay, okay, but you can't say that I taught you to write in the future. You can only say that your father taught you."

Pangpang tilted his head: "Why?"

Chenchen said: "I can't afford to lose face."

Pangpang: "…………"

...

That afternoon, Chenchen didn't go to class.

Su Taotao thought he would at least go to class for a week.

Unexpectedly, he only went for half a day.

"Hasn't Chenchen played with Pangpang and the others for a long time? Why didn't you go this afternoon?"

Chenchen sat cross-legged on the small stool made by his father: "Mom, I seem to have grown up again, why haven't Pangpang and the others grown up yet?"

Su Taotao: "???"

"What do you mean?"

Chenchen told Su Taotao about what happened at school today, and then ran into the house to move out his treasure box, and found the notes he had passed to his father on the first and last day of summer vacation:

"Mom, look, this is my handwriting on the first day of summer vacation, and this is my handwriting on the last day of summer vacation. Haven't I improved a lot?"

Su Taotao took it and looked at it, and it was indeed improved a lot.

Chenchen habitually "copied" Fu Zhengtu's answer, which was equivalent to imitating Fu Zhengtu's handwriting and then adjusting his own handwriting, and only improved a little bit every day.

It may not be obvious without comparison, but with such a comparison, the effect of hard work is still very obvious.

Before going to bed at night, Su Taotao asked Fu Zhengtu: "According to Chenchen's learning ability, it will be difficult to distinguish Chenchen's handwriting from yours in the future. Isn't it bad?"

Fu Zhengtu shook his head and said: "No, when we first practiced calligraphy, we all copied the same copybook, but in the end everyone will develop his own style.

Chenchen has his own ideas, and when he grows up, we can distinguish them."

Well, anyway, Su Taotao always listens to Fu Zhengtu when it comes to her son's education.

"By the way, I heard some gossip that the college entrance examination may be restored." Fu Zhengtu suddenly said.

Su Taotao was not surprised, because she knew it long ago, and she also knew that the time would be around October next year, otherwise why would she study so hard.

But how did Fu Zhengtu receive the news so early?

"Really? Is the news reliable?" Su Taotao tried to show a little surprise.

"It's almost certain," Fu Zhengtu touched Su Taotao's head, "Do you want to go to college?"

...