When I was a child, the little dolls in the countryside, whether they were male dolls, were all jumping up and down. Parents at home are busy with farming and can't take care of their children at all, so they are basically free-range, letting the baby find a little friend to play. At that time, the countryside was still quite safe, and there were not many vehicles, at most they were pedaled tricycles that sold vegetables, or two-wheeled bicycles, not to mention four-wheeled cars, and even motorcycles or electric tricycles were unaffordable. At that time, motorcycles were considered luxury. I have never heard of traffickers abducting children, at most people stealing cars, chickens, and dogs. There are no more vehicles than now, and if you don't pay attention, your baby may be hit by a car or lost.

Of course, rural security is security. But there are still naughty and mischievous children, who throw the cannonballs in their hands at the feet of other children, scaring them to death. Seriously, it hurt the baby of another family, and the parents came to the door. Then this baby is going to suffer, and it is inevitable that she will be beaten and apologize.

There are also bold babies who go to the field to dig other people's sweet potatoes, taking advantage of the villagers to go home for dinner and lunch break or when the moon is dark and the wind is high at night, the older little brother will take a few of us little dolls to dig sweet potatoes, and one or two people will dig one or two and leave. Then find a piece of flat land to make a furnace and dig a deep pit. Place a brick in the middle of the pit to make sure there is a hole for firewood, and then pile the excavated earth blocks around the pit to form a semi-oval tower. After that, you can start the fire, about half an hour to burn the firewood to make sure that the clods are evenly heated. After an hour or so, after the earthen tower is red, the top of the tower is poked open and the sweet potatoes are added. Then press the heated clods on the sweet potatoes, and cover the pit with new soil to ensure that there is no air leakage. Wait about an hour for the oven to start, and dig out the sweet potatoes in the pit. When the skin of the sweet potato is opened, it has an attractive aroma and tastes very sweet. At that moment, I was very satisfied, and I felt that no matter how unhappy my childhood was, I could be healed.

In the countryside, if there is a fruit tree in front of the house, it is a very proud thing. In autumn, when the owner of the tree is not at home, the babies will climb the tree to steal the fruit, and leave after picking one or two. There are also those who do not enjoy eating, and the next day they secretly pick fruits. Under normal circumstances, adults are more generous, let the village babies pick a few to eat, and the stingy adults will scold a few words. Not to mention the baby at home, I feel that it was originally my own fruit, and I don't have enough to eat, where can I let other babies steal it. I took a chair and sat under the tree to look at my own fruit, and only when I was in a good mood would I be allowed to share it with other babies in the village to eat together. In fact, I often go to my neighbor's house to secretly pick guava, the fruit is big and sweet, the appearance is green, and the meat inside is white, yellow, and red. Even when you see the colorful fluffy insects on the leaves of the trees, you are not too afraid, in fact, to be crawled by this kind of insects, it will make people itchy and painful, and you can feel the scalp tingling when you see it with the naked eye. When I was a child, I was really taking a risk for a bite to eat, and I felt that I should not be so unfortunate to be targeted.

A year before going to school, when I was seven years old. My mother told me that if I wanted to go to school, I had to go to the fields to help, so I obediently went to the fields to pull weeds. The vegetable fields in the field are like rows of rectangles made of soil, separated by a row of small ditches in the middle of the two rows for watering, and rapeseed is sprinkled on top of the soil. When it's cold, a layer of straw is placed on top to prevent frostbite before the rapeseed sprouts. When watering, it is also particular, and the strength must be mastered. If the water is splashed too hard, it will flush the rapeseed from the top to the bottom, or even into the water. When it sprouts, you will notice the effect of watering. If the strength is mastered, the vegetable seedlings will be all on it. The strength is not well mastered, and the vegetable seedlings are everywhere above and below. There are actually a lot of weeds in the vegetable field, maybe there are too many fertilizers, and they grow very luxuriantly. At that time, the fertilizer poured on the vegetable field was basically cow dung dug up in the cowshed, or human manure in the manure tank, after all, chemical fertilizer was expensive. However, the vegetables grown in this way are safe and healthy to eat.

There was a lot of grass in the field, so I had to bend down and pull out the grass one by one, and pull it up one by one, so that I could continue to grow even if I left the roots. I didn't pull it out for a while, I felt a sore back, and when I got home to eat and wash my hands, my hands were full of green, and I couldn't wash them off. There were still dirt chips left between the nails, and they couldn't be washed clean, and the young hands began to become unrecognizable. But I'm still quite proud in my heart, and I feel like I've done a lot for my family.

Sometimes, though, my sister would encourage me to go to a place where my mother couldn't find us to play before my mother told me to go to the field. It's a pity that I was timid, even if I hid, as soon as my mother called me, I still went to the field. The main reason is that I am afraid that my mother will whip me with a piece of bamboo, which is cut into pieces of bamboo for burning fire, and it is very painful to smoke.

I remember one time my sister told me to wash the cups, and I was very short at the time, and the washing station in the bathroom was very high, almost to my chest. I wash the cup on tiptoe, and the plastic plate for the quilt is almost up to my shoulder. The weight of more than a dozen glasses is still quite heavy, and there is still water on the plate, I didn't hold it steady for a while, and more than a dozen glasses fell to the ground and shattered into glass slag in an instant. There was also a well-kept cup lying in the pool unpicked up. At that time, I didn't care whether I was hurt or not, I just felt that the sky was going to fall, with an unfavored child like me, a dozen glasses were so expensive, I had to be punished multiple times, my heart was pounding, I could hear my heart beating fast, and a messy picture flashed in my mind. I want to flee the scene, but I don't know where to flee. However, although there are many ideas, it is only a momentary effort.

Because after a while, my mother took a piece of bamboo, regardless of thirty-seven twenty-one, closed the bathroom door, and whipped me dozens of times. The skin under the leg was scarred, and the red marks were clearly visible. I cried wolf in pain, and even jumped up and down, and my mother didn't care if I would be pierced by glass slag. My mother just pumped me hard, and didn't listen to me explain why I dropped so many cups, maybe thinking that I had fallen on purpose. I cried tears and snot all over my face, and I was desperate for someone to save me from my mother's bamboo. Unfortunately, no one came in to stop it, and no one shouted outside the door to stop. I really wanted this moment to end quickly, but finally my mother was tired and let me go with a sore hand. I walked out of the bathroom, sat on the floor with my legs hugged, my eyes swollen from crying, and my voice almost hoarse. At that time, I only felt that a girl's life was really worthless in the countryside. If it were my brother, it wouldn't be like this at all. However, I didn't have the idea of holding a grudge, I just felt that my mother's treatment of our babies was unfair. Maybe I felt that my parents were my food and clothing, and I didn't dare to resist, and I didn't have the courage to run away from home. Because I'm more afraid that my parents won't want me than the injury on my leg. Because I'm a girl, I think it's normal to be discarded. And I don't have the ability to be self-reliant outside. I'm not even seven years old, what can I do if I run away from home? At that time, I didn't feel that I was lost, and my parents would blame themselves and worry about something. I will probably feel fortunate to have one less girl. This kind of thinking also led to a lack of inner security in my life since I was a child.

It took almost a month for the scars on my legs to disappear, and no matter how many years have passed, I still remember the scene that stuck with me, the injured leg that I couldn't see. Also, that hurtful and desperate heart.