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记忆中,也是这样一个凉爽的早晨。天淡淡的,我小小的手紧抓奶奶的衣裳,坐在自行车后座上,与奶奶一起摇摇摆摆地穿过大街。“黑米糕哟……”甜美的糕香伴着缓缓的吆喝声飘来,自行车稳稳地停在了早餐店前。我看着阿姨打开蒸笼,取出一块香香软软的黑米糕。笼里的水汽软软地绕在空中,湿润而可爱。从小,我总是在早餐时吃一块黑米糕,下午在幼儿园里再吃一块。美味的米糕飘着香气,仿佛婴儿的脸颊般可爱,软软糯糯,充满着让人幸福的甜味。四四方方的黑米糕,用甜甜的味道融化了我甜甜的童年。只是,时光不待我掩藏。亲爱的童年,伴着那个稚气未脱的我从滑梯上滑
Memory, it is such a cool morning. Days faint, my little hand clutching the clothes of grandma, sitting in the back seat of a bike, and grandma swinging through the street together. “Black rice cake yo ... ...” sweet cake accompanied by a slow crooning sound, the bike parked in front of the breakfast shop firmly. I looked at my aunt opened the steamer, remove a piece of fragrant soft black rice cake. Cages in the soft water around the air, moist and cute. As a child, I always eat a black rice cake at breakfast, eat a piece in kindergarten again. Delicious rice cake floating aroma, as if the baby’s cheeks cute, soft waxy waxy, full of people happy sweetness. Boxer black rice cake, with a sweet taste melted my sweet childhood. Just, time waits for me to hide. Dear childhood, accompanied by that childish I slipped from the slide